


our place in the universe is more fragile than we’d like to think

by aeneapsych



Category: Mass Effect, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Bondage, M/M, Mass Effect AU, Minor Character Death, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 16:04:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeneapsych/pseuds/aeneapsych
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a riot breaks out on Omega, the crew of the SSV Beacon Hills SR-2 are sent to investigate.   Led by Commander Derek Hale, Flight Lieutenant Stiles Stilinski and his friends uncover something much deeper than they could have expected. A Teen Wolf/Sterek Mass Effect AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - humanity needs a hero

**Author's Note:**

> A very big, very enthusiastic THANK YOU to the lovely [thepsychicclam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam). Without you I could not have done this! You are a dear friend and an amazing beta :D
> 
> Also thank you to my dear friends, Jen, Allie, and Anna, I would have never had the guts to start this without you :D
> 
> I made a fanmix on 8tracks to set the mood! [humanity needs a hero](http://8tracks.com/aeneapsych/humanity-needs-a-hero)

**Prologue: 3 Years Ago**

They had just rounded up the last of the rogue krogan group on Canrum into a tent and were securing their bindings when a man came rushing out of the jungle at full speed. 

Derek turned from where he was checking the bindings on the leader to see who the intruder was, and raised his assault rifle to attack. Once he recognized the man, however, he dropped his gun. “Peter?”

Peter stumbled over to the group, breathing heavily and dragging his sniper rifle on the ground. He collapsed to his knees when he reached the tent. His clothes were ripped and burnt in places, and he was covered in small cuts. 

“Derek! Oh, my beautiful nephew. You have no idea what an amazing sight you are right now. I thought I’d never make it off this fucking shithole alive.” Peter raised his head to look at the rest of the crew. He caught Stiles’ eyes and grinned widely.

“What are you doing? How did you know we were here?” Derek looked shocked and angry. Stiles had heard Derek mention that he had an uncle who was a Spectre, or a Special Tactics and Reconnaissance agent, but he had never given much detail on their relationship.

“I didn’t know. It’s just a wonderful coincidence.” Peter fell onto his ass and accepted the canteen that Scott had pulled out of his pack. He drank deeply while Stiles glanced at Allison and Scott, who both looked as confused as he felt. 

Derek turned and ordered the other two soldiers that had helped them bring down the rogue pack to go inside the tent and watch over the krogan.

Stiles watched Peter wipe his mouth with the back of his hand as he stepped closer. “So you’re saying you just happened to be in the exact same fucking place as your nephew and his crew, and you had no idea? Don’t you Spectres know everything?”

“Stiles is right, Peter. I’m sure the Spectres have insider information on Alliance missions. You can’t honestly believe I would fall for your bullshit again.” Derek was standing over Peter now, fists balled up at his sides, teeth bared in anger. 

“Ok, alright, you got me,” Peter said. “I may keep track of your whereabouts as I travel through the galaxy on my little missions. Can you blame me though? I have to keep an eye on you, Derek. Keep you safe.” 

Stiles backed up as Derek leapt towards Peter, grabbing his shirt and yanking him to his feet.

“And whose fault is that, _Uncle_? That we are the only Hale’s left in this fucking galaxy?” Derek spat, shaking Peter as he yelled.

Peter pried Derek’s hands off his shirt and stepped back, trying to placate him with a look. “You know none of what happened back on Earth was my doing. You know I tried to save Laura.” 

Laura, as in Derek’s older sister? Stiles knew that she had been killed in action eight years ago, when Derek was just out of basic training. He also knew her death was suspicious, but he had never been able to get Derek to tell him the full story. It always seemed too painful for him to recount. 

“We're not going to talk about this right now. In case you hadn’t noticed, we're in the middle of subduing a rogue faction of krogan, and we need to get them off this planet and back to the Citadel where they can be charged officially.” Derek checked his omni and moved his fingers over the interface. 

Peter brushed dirt off of his pants and holstered his sniper onto his back. “I'm here because you never respond to any of my messages. You've cut me out of your life. So, I thought I’d track you down. Only problem is I ran into a bit of an issue once I landed. The minute I stepped out of my ship I was attacked by some rather irate natives. Now my clothes are ruined, I'm covered in blood and dirt and I’m out of ammo. And my omni’s busted. If you help me get back to my ship, then I'll help with your little krogan problem.” 

“Uh, is your ship a UT-47?” Stiles asked. “Because we passed that on our way over here and that thing’s a pile of scraps.” Stiles had cringed when they saw the ruined carrier as they lead the group of krogans through the jungle towards their camp.

Peter spun around and faced Stiles. “You've got to be joking.”

“I would never joke about a damaged spacecraft,” Stiles replied. “Was that your only ride? Or did you FTL into this system on another ship?”

“No, I came here on that carrier by myself, straight from the Citadel. Shit!” Peter exclaimed. 

“How fucking convenient. Now, stay here and try not to do anything else stupid.” Derek sighed and turned his back on his uncle to check on the captives in the tent. 

Peter looked over at Stiles, Scott, and Allison. “Always such a bright fellow, isn’t he? I assume you all are used to this type of behavior. Or does he actually treat you with a bit more respect since you aren’t related to him?” 

Scott shuffled his feet nervously and glanced over at Allison. “Commander Hale treats us the way any good commander should treat his crew. We have no issues to report.” Allison nodded her head in agreement, her hands gripping her sniper. 

Stiles walked up to Peter. He had a bad feeling about this guy. If Derek didn't trust him, then neither did he. “I don't like you.”

Peter grinned. “I don't care.”

Luckily Derek saved Stiles from having to think of a retort when he walked out of the tent with the krogan and the two soldiers. 

“Alright, let’s get them back to our carrier and onto the ship,” Derek said. “Peter, you can come back with us to the Citadel, but after that we'll go our separate ways. And do not interfere with our mission. Got it?” Derek raised his eyebrows at his uncle, asking for confirmation.

Peter did a mock salute. “Of course, _Commander_. Just point me in the right direction.”

Scott and Allison headed over to the group of krogan and grabbed onto one captive each to start to lead them back to the carrier. Stiles held back and watched as Peter moved over to the group to assist with the captives. A flash of light appeared by Peter’s hip, and before Stiles could yell a warning, Peter had leapt forward and slit the throats of the two soldiers in the front of the group. 

“Derek, watch out!” Stiles yelled, sprinting forward. 

Before he could get there, Peter grabbed Scott and held the knife up to his throat. “Uh huh huh, now don’t be so hasty, little pilot. Not to be the stereotypical villain, but if you let me get what I came here for, nobody else has to get hurt.”

Stiles stopped in his tracks. He looked to his left and saw Allison with her sniper aimed at Peter’s head. She had a perfect shot lined up, but Peter had proven he was fast. He could probably still slice through Scott’s neck before she got a shot off. Derek was frozen behind them, mouth agape. 

Peter turned himself and Scott to face Derek. “Are you going to listen to me now, Derek? This is very tedious and I just want to get off this fucking planet. And I’m sure you do too.”

“What do you want?” Derek looked as puzzled as Stiles felt. 

Peter tilted his head and smiled. “When I found out who exactly it was you’d be capturing, I made a few calls. Turns out Thrax over here has a nice little bounty on his head, five million credits. Guess he pissed off more than just the Alliance brass. The turians hate him even more than the humans do.”

“And how exactly do you expect to get him back to the turians? Your ship is busted beyond repair!” Stiles shouted. 

“His omni isn’t broken.” That came from Allison, who still had her weapon trained on Peter’s forehead.

“Smart girl,” Peter said. “How about you lower that sniper, hmm? Then I’m going to call my friends to come pick me up, and you all will wait patiently until I'm gone. You can have the rest of them, though. I don’t need them.” 

Stiles looked between his crew members, trying to think of a way to get out of this; he had to do something. If he could just get Peter to let go of Scott, then he could use his biotic powers on him. An unconscious man couldn't call his buddies for help.

“Derek, let Peter have him,” Stiles said. Derek stared back at Stiles, his face blank. Stiles was formulating a plan, and he hoped Derek knew him well enough to figure out what he was doing. “It isn’t worth losing any more of our crew. Please, Peter, just let Scott go and you can take whomever you want.” Stiles slipped his shotgun out of his holster and laid it on the ground. He looked over at Allison and she nodded, also placing her weapon onto the grass.

Peter chuckled and shook his head. “You must think I’m an idiot. I guess I’ll have to do this the hard way. Derek, be a dear and remove the bindings from everyone except Thrax. They’ll help me make sure you don’t kill me before my reinforcements get here.”

“Why would they help you? You're kidnapping their leader for a bounty!” Derek shouted. 

“Oh you think he's their leader?” Peter asked, looking smug. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised, seeing as the Alliance are a bunch of uneducated simpletons. You never get all of the facts straight, do you? Thrax has held these gentlemen captive himself and forced them to fight in his little rebellions. That's why he's worth so much. The turians are trying to maintain their tenuous peace with the krogans, and Thrax is fucking it all up. They think he’ll start another war.” 

Stiles was shocked. How could the Alliance have missed this? If all of the krogan here were fighting under the command of Thrax, then that meant that everyone Derek’s crew had killed since they got here was innocent. 

“Now you're all getting it,” Peter said. “See, look at this tragedy I'm saving you from. At least the last four will remain alive. And if you think the krogan government won’t take action against the Alliance, then you are just as stupid as your superiors are. If you let me take Thrax to the turians and bring the others back to their people, I’m sure they’ll go easy on you.” Peter relaxed his hold on Scott, and Stiles seized his opportunity. 

The second Peter dropped his hands from around Scott, Stiles focused and gathered his concentration in his fingertips, feeling the soft hum of biotic power start to rush through his synapses. Raising his arms up, he lifted Peter into the air. Scott recovered quickly and moved back to where Allison was standing.

“What the...” Peter gasped as he tried to move. Stiles caught Derek’s eye and smiled briefly as he bent over to pick up his shotgun. As he straightened, he closed his eyes and gathered more energy, visualizing his attack. In a swift movement Stiles waved his arm to the right, ending with his hand pointing towards the largest tree he could find. Peter's body flew through the air and hit the side of the tree with a sickening crack. He fell to the ground and didn’t move. 

Derek and Stiles rushed over to Peter, Scott and Allison staying behind to watch the krogans. Stiles got there first and pushed the heel of his right foot onto Peter’s shoulder, turning him over onto his back. He cocked his gun and aimed it at the unconscious man’s face.

Derek clapped a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Good job, Lieutenant.”

“Thanks, boss. Now what the hell do we do with him?”


	2. it’s good to be home, huh, commander

“Op-check is clean. Route set to Omega space station. ETA is approximately 35 hours.” Stiles’ fingers flew over the lighted grids and symbols on his control panel, completing the launch sequence as SSV Beacon Hills SR-2 exited the docks at Arcturus station.

Derek grunted softly in acknowledgment from where he was standing behind Stiles’ pilot chair.

“Ya know, I think Batman probably has more of a personality than you do, Commander. Well, maybe not Christian Bale’s Batman; did you ever see those old movies? They were so frickin’ sweet. But if you’re Batman, does that make me Robin or Catwoman? Or the Joker? Like Jack Nicholson's Joker or Heath Ledger's Joker? Could I be Cat _man_ , maybe? I don’t know, all that skin-tight pleather would really chafe my…”

“Stiles, shut up.” Derek cuffed Stiles on the back of his head, knocking his hat askew.

“Ow,” Stiles whined, getting up from his chair and turning to face Derek. “Rude. I just told you that you were basically the coolest superhero ever, and that’s the thanks I get?” Stiles adjusted his hat and pouted.

Derek shook his head. “You deserve to get hit again if you think Batman is the best superhero.”

“What?” Stiles asked, astounded. “Do not even talk to me anymore if you are going to say shit like that.” He stalked away from the bridge and his stupid commander towards the CIC.

Derek caught up with him, and Stiles twisted around to face him and continue this travesty of an argument. “Well, so who is it then? This sorry excuse for a superhero that you think is better than the dark knight?”

“Wolverine.” Of course Derek would like that grumpy asshole.

“Danny, who do you think would win in a fight? Batman or Wolverine?” Stiles gestured with both of his hands as he walked up to the Yeoman, hoping he would get the answer correct.

Danny smiled, dimples blinding everyone within a 30 yard radius. “Neither. Because Superman would annihilate both of them.” 

Derek snickered behind Stiles. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. This conversation was clearly over. “Danny, I never thought this would happen, but you have disappointed me.” 

Danny shrugged. “Maybe if I wore the costume to work one day I could make it up to you?”

Stiles spared a thought for Danny wearing a skin-tight superhero costume, complete with little red briefs. “Huh...”

“I don't think that would be very appropriate, Yeoman Mahealani,” Derek said, an unimpressed look on his face.

“Don't be such a party pooper, Derek,” said Stiles. “We should totally have a costume day!”

“Just ignore Stiles and call everyone to meet me in the conference room in 15 minutes.” Derek playfully shoved Stiles out of his way as he stepped closer to Danny and the central computer terminal.

Stiles laughed as he left the CIC and headed to the elevators to sneak down to his quarters before the meeting started. He’d have just enough time to unpack all of his clothes and toiletries and put them away before he had to head back up for the briefing.

“Peter sent me another message,” Derek said from behind him. Stiles stepped backward quickly and tripped over his duffel bag, startled by Derek's sudden appearance. Instead of righting himself, his annoyingly clumsy limbs decided they would let him fall back onto his bed, where he landed on his ass and then slid onto the floor. 

Stiles sat up and rubbed his side; he would probably have a bruise. “You know, a knock or something would be nice. I could have been naked!” 

Derek pulled a face and shrugged like walking in on him naked would be pretty uneventful.

“Wow, thanks. A+ on the self-esteem pep talk, boss.” Derek had stepped forward and offered a hand to help Stiles up, but Stiles waved him off and stood up by himself.

“If I walked in on you naked, I’m sure the first words out of my mouth would not be about my uncle.” Derek walked over to a small couch near the bed, closing an open drawer on his way with his hip. 

Was that a blush Stiles felt creeping up his neck and cheeks, because if so, that needed to stop immediately.

Luckily, Derek didn’t seem to be paying any attention to Stiles’ traitorous face. He sat on the edge of the couch, hands locked together in front of him, tension making the veins stand out on his arms.

Stiles went back to unpacking his clothes and asked, “So what did that asshole have to say? Is he still on Omega?” Just before they left for their current mission, Derek had shown Stiles a message he had received from Peter a few days before. 

“He is,” Derek replied. “And somehow he knows we’re headed there ourselves. He wants to meet us at Afterlife when we land.” Stiles whipped back around to face Derek, who was bent forward with his head in his hands.

“Are you serious? I thought no one knew about our secret mission? How the fuck would he find out?” If Stiles thought Peter was a complete asshole before, now he was nearing cartoon villain levels. He formed a mental image of Peter twirling one of those ridiculous thin moustaches and cackling. 

“... you paying attention to me, Stiles? I said I think someone high up in the Alliance is feeding him information. I never told you this, but after the incident on Canrum, I did some checking to see if Spectres really had that much intel on what the Alliance did and their missions, and from what I could find out they don’t. It’s actually pretty rare for them to get involved or even care about Alliance missions unless it affects them directly.” Derek looked at Stiles, his eyebrows pulled together in frustration.

“So your uncle clearly has someone on his payroll watching you,” Stiles remarked. Derek nodded his agreement. “What are we going to do? You can’t tell me we are actually going to meet up with him, are we?”

“We’ll have to,” Derek replied, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. Stiles’ dumb brain decided he should focus on the strip of bare skin above the top of Derek’s pants that appeared. Bad brain. “Omega's a small place. If we don’t meet him there, we’ll run into him eventually, and he’ll be pissed if we ignore him.”

Stiles opened his mouth to start describing all of the ways he didn’t give a fuck about Peter being mad, but Derek was already walking out of his quarters, raising a hand to point at Stiles. 

“Don’t be late to the meeting.”

~~~~

The mission they were on was top secret, and assigned from the highest levels of the Systems Alliance military. They were to investigate the ongoing riot on Omega, a space station largely known for gambling, prostitution, drug deals, and basically any shady-type dealings you could think of. Derek and his crew were to act as a small infiltration task force, gathering information on the cause of the riot and any way to stop it. The riot had been ongoing for less than a week, but the casualty list was growing rapidly. The Citadel Council refused to intervene, so the Alliance decided to step in. 

“We'll only be taking a small crew onto the station once we land,” Derek said, standing in the middle of the conference room, arms crossed. “Our first stop will be the nightclub called _Afterlife_ , where we think Aria T'loak, the unofficial ruler of Omega, has her headquarters. If anyone knows anything about the riot, she will.”

Derek finished his briefing by explaining standard riot safety procedures, and Stiles zoned out, the instructions familiar to him. He wondered why Derek still hadn't mentioned Peter's message to the rest of the crew. Maybe he didn't want to worry them.

After Stiles left the conference room, he met with his flight crew and went over the route to Omega again. He trusted his co-pilots implicitly and knew he could count on them to handle the more mundane flight procedures so Stiles could step away from his chair for long periods of time. Which meant he could go bug the shit out of all his friends.

First he headed down to Deck 3 to grab some snacks from the mess hall and then to the medical bay to visit Scott. He helped his best friend stock the shelves with first aid supplies and omni-gel while they listened to Scott’s music collection and sang at the tops of their lungs, eating their way through a pile of chocolate snack cakes. When Scott’s assistant Erin walked in on them mid-rap, Stiles decided it was time to leave. He dance-shuffled his way out the door, barely catching Erin’s “what the fuck is wrong with Stilinski?” just before the door slid shut.

Stiles whistled as he walked down the hallway, a skip in his step as he got to his favorite part of the song. Derek turned the corner and stopped when he saw Stiles.

“So if you're here,” Derek started, one eyebrow raised, “then who's flying the ship?”

Stiles approached Derek and held up a finger. “One, you know we don't actually fly these ships like they're some old-fashioned prop planes, right?”

Derek just stood there, facial expression unchanged.

Stiles scoffed, flicked his middle finger up to join the first. “Two, I am the _head_ pilot of this ship, which means I can fuck off while the peons do all the grunt work.”

Derek crossed his arms, a small smile on his face. “And who gave you permission to do that, Flight Lieutenant?”

Feeling bold, Stiles asked, “Why? You gonna reprimand me, _Commander_?” He winked at Derek.

Derek's cheeks flushed bright red and he uncrossed him arms. He blinked owlishly at Stiles as his mouth parted.

Stiles bit his bottom lip to stifle a grin and brushed past Derek. “Guess I should get back to work.”

~~~~

After stopping by the armory to check out a couple of the new weapons Allison had bought from her C-Sec contact, he went into the research lab to see Lydia. When he walked into the large white room, he was greeted by Ethan and Aiden. The twins were an AI program that Lydia had developed to assist her with tasks around the lab. They often finished each other’s sentences and exchanged what Stiles thought were vaguely erotic looks with each other, and he really didn’t like them. Whenever Stiles came to visit Lydia in her lab, they always ended up being the reason he left. Aiden had a tendency to yell at Stiles or insult him, whereas Ethan always asked after Danny, who sometimes came to visit. It was almost as if the AI had a bit of a crush on the Yeoman. 

Aiden was in the middle of making fun of Stiles’ haircut for what seemed like the fifth time, when Lydia came in the room behind him. “Oh thank you, my red-haired goddess, I was about to find the mainframe these two are connected to and kick it to pieces.”

“If you do that, I’ll kick your mainframe to pieces. With my 5-inch spiked stilettos.” Lydia breezed by him, trailing behind a soft perfume as she moved her fingers over her omni, shutting down the AI program. “Better?” she asked.

“Thanks, Lyds. You know how they creep me out. And Aiden is such a dick to me. Did you build him to hate me?” Stiles sat down on one of the stools in front of Lydia’s workbench and spun around in a circle.

“Nope. He just naturally evolved his hatred of you because of your incredible charm, Stilinski.” Lydia was sorting through a set of vials in her freezer, looking at her omni as she checked the labels. 

“You got a new project? Or just doing inventory?” Either was a good possibility, as Lydia was an anal-retentive neat freak, but was also constantly inventing new tech and chemical weapons on a whim.

“Neither. I’m checking up on a rumor I heard before we left.” Lydia turned around to face Stiles, closing the freezer door. “Did Derek mention anything more to you about the riot? Specifically what he thought might be causing them?”

“I thought that was the whole purpose of our mission? To figure out why the riot is happening.” Stiles stopped spinning on the stool and focused on her face, which was a little blurry.

Lydia sighed, “I know it is, but I was just hoping he may have told you something more than what he told the rest of us.”

Stiles thought of Peter’s message but decided not to mention it. He didn’t think that was the type of information Lydia was looking for here. “No, why would he tell me something that he wouldn’t tell the rest of you?”

Throwing her head back, Lydia snorted in laughter. “Why would he indeed?” She rolled her eyes and sat down at her computer terminal, bringing up her inventory menu.

Stiles said, “I'm going to ignore that comment.”

Lydia scoffed. She swiveled around in her chair to face Stiles, cocking her head. “No, sweetie, you're not. Spill it. What's going on with you and our fearless commander?” 

“There's nothing going on and you know it,” Stiles replied. “I'd tell you if there was.”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Well I don't understand why not. He clearly has feelings for you too. So just go for it. This whole pining from afar thing you have going on is getting annoying.” 

“You do remember the last time I spilled my feelings all over someone that I had been pining for, don't you?” Stiles asked. He nudged her foot with the toe of his boot, smiling.

“Of course I do,” Lydia answered, winking. “We fucked for about six months while Jackson and I were taking a break. Then we _mutually_ decided we weren't a good fit romantically, and we stopped. Now we're closer than we were even when we were sleeping together.”

“So your advice,” Stiles began, “is that I tell Derek how I feel and if I'm lucky we'll have sex for a few months, then break up? Not to mention the fact that he's our _commanding officer_?”

Lydia sighed and turned back to her computer. “Who cares about that part, Stiles? Besides, power dynamics in the bedroom can be hot. And who knows, maybe you'll spend the rest of your lives together. But you're never going to find out unless you tell him. He's not going to come to you first.”

Stiles knew she was right. Even if Derek did feel the same way about Stiles, the fact that he was Stiles' superior made the issue a little sticky. Stiles could technically file for harassment if Derek acted in a way that appeared to abuse his authority. And because of that, Stiles knew Derek would never make the first move. Stiles just wanted to be completely sure Derek felt the same way, because even if Stiles had no authority to abuse, he still had a heart that could break. 

“So what was the rumor you were checking on?” Stiles asked.

“Omega is one of the galaxy's premier black market trading posts,” Lydia explained. “I heard some whispers back on Arcturus about a new drug going around. I thought maybe it had something to do with the riot. I have most of the compounds here in my lab that would produce the same effects of the drug I heard about, but not everything. I was hoping that if I could make a similar version before we got there, it might help us figure out where it came from and…” She shrugged.

“You are so smart.” Stiles beamed at her. 

“And you are so in my way. As much as I love our witty conversations, I do really want to see what I can put together before we land. I need to turn the twins back on so I can get through these calculations quickly. So that means I need you to leave.” Lydia tilted her head and smiled, closed lipped. Time to go.

Stiles headed towards the door, “I think you might need to find a different phrase besides ‘turn the twins on’ or else people are going to think you are using them more for just lab work.” 

At least the piece of metal scrap that hit the back of his head wasn’t heavy enough to knock him out, but he’d probably have a bruise. Second one today.

~~~~

So, jacking off in the shower in the communal bathroom probably wasn’t the best idea Stiles had all day, but it probably wasn’t the worst. It was just that when he finally finished his rounds on the ship, visiting almost everyone (except for Greenberg in Engineering, who always threw random ship parts at him when he came near), it was close to midnight. It had been a very long day, and Stiles wanted a nice hot shower before he went to bed. Turns out Derek had that very same idea, which meant that when Stiles walked in the bathroom with his towel wrapped around his waist, whistling the song he and Scott were listening to earlier, he ran directly into a wall of wet flesh. 

Which then led to awkward apologies, and not really knowing where to put one’s hands when you were trying not to fall over but the only available thing to grab was the biceps of your ridiculously muscled and slightly damp commander. 

“I will definitely not mention Peter now,” Derek said, a smile on his face as he helped Stiles regain his footing.

“What are you -” Stiles started, then stopped as he realized Derek was referring to his comment from before and walking in on him naked. Heat rushed to his cheeks. “Wow, it sure is hot and steamy in here, isn't it? Better get in that shower.” Good game, Stilinski, real smooth.

And then Stiles earned his third bruise of the day on his right temple because he walked directly into the wall separating the sink area from the showers because he was too busy ogling Derek’s ass in the slightly too thin regulation towel.

All of that added up to Stiles hurriedly stroking his dick while he rested his forehead against the cool tile of the wall, left arm holding him stable against the wall. Since the showers were all in a big open room, someone else could walk in at any moment. He had to do this fast. Which meant thinking of the filthiest things his mind could come up with:

Derek fucking Stiles bent over the galaxy map in the CIC, Danny watching and providing commentary.

Stiles shoving his cock down Derek’s throat while he sat at his pilot’s chair and barked out orders to his flight crew during a landing.

Derek shoving his slicked fingers into Stiles’ ass in between spanking him, making Stiles count until he reached…

“Stiles, you still in here?”

Shit. Fuck. What was Derek doing back in the bathroom? Stiles stilled, trying to clear his mind of anything remotely arousing. 

“Yeah, dude, I’m in the shower.” Please don’t walk in. _Please_ don’t walk in.

“Ok. I.. uh.. think I left my necklace in there on one of the shelves. Do you see it? ” Derek’s voice sounded closer, but Stiles didn’t think he had stepped into the shower area, thank goodness. 

“Yep. It’s right next to me. I’ll bring it to you when I’m out.” Derek always wore a silver necklace with a small triskele pendant, the same as the tattoo on the middle of his back. Stiles thought it was a family symbol or something.

“Thanks, Stiles.” The relief was obvious in Derek’s voice. “I’ll wait up until then.”

“Sounds good,” Stiles replied. Would he please just leave? Instead of his erection deflating like he hoped it would, it was even worse now, the tip leaking over his thumb as he held it against his stomach.

Stiles heard Derek walk out of the bathroom and the door slide shut. He had a momentary flash of coming all over Derek’s muscled back, on the triskele tattoo, and his orgasm shot through him, his vision temporarily blacking out. 

~~~~

Stiles hoped Derek didn’t notice his discomfort when he came up to the captain’s cabin to return the missing necklace. Derek thanked Stiles with a brief squeeze of his shoulder, and Stiles flushed again, fleeing the cabin and back to the crew quarters so he could hide under his blankets in shame.


	3. no titled ruler and only one rule

“Name, designation, and SA number?” 

Stiles held out his left arm and let the security guard scan his omni. “Flight Lieutenant Stilinski, ma’am, Systems Alliance 247398.” It was a little after midday, and they had just landed. Stiles was the last of the five to go through the security checkpoint at the docks, and he was getting antsy.

The asari was taking her time reading his file on her omni, which Stiles didn’t really blame her for, what with the riot and everything. He just wanted to get out of here and into the crowded areas of the main part of the station. It made him nervous to have too much attention on their crew, since they were supposed to be as secretive as possible. Going through security though couldn’t be avoided.

She finally looked up and nodded at him, “You’re clear. Be careful.” 

“Thanks, you too.” He waved at her and joined the others waiting for him by the door to the walkway. “I’ve never seen any security guard as frightened as those guys are. It makes me wonder just how out of control things must be in there right now.” Stiles pulled his gloves from his pocket and shoved his hands in them, fingers shaking.

Scott and Lydia were visibly nervous, and even Allison looked less calm than normal, her eyes shifting left to right and her hand flexing as if she wanted to draw her weapon. It wasn't that the mission in general was much different from any others, but the footage they had seen on the Alliance News Network showed a brutal chaotic mess. Plus the fact that there was no central authority or police on Omega; a crew their size wasn't equipped to fight in what was technically a warzone as large as this. They had to get in and out as quickly and safely as possible.

Derek stretched his arms out wide and corralled his crew in closer so he could speak softly. “Our first stop is _Afterlife_. If we keep our minds focused on one goal at a time, we can get through this safely. Once we exit the walkway into the main atrium, the entrance to the club is a straight walk north. Allison will lead the group, and we will follow single file. After Allison, it will be Scott, Lydia, Stiles, with me bringing up the rear. Do not stop no matter what. If someone attacks, do whatever you need to do to get rid of them, I don’t care. Just keep moving.”

Derek was looking at Stiles as he said this last part. “What about once we get inside the club?” Stiles figured it could either be worse or better, depending on if Aria was still around or not.

“Same thing. Aria usually sits in a lounge above the circular bar in the main room of the club. If I remember correctly there are stairs on either side leading up to the second floor. We’ll head around the right side of the bar and up that set of stairs. We’ll regroup once we see if she is there or not. Got it?” Derek raised his eyebrows in question; a chorus of “yes, sirs” followed.

Lydia spoke up, “If she is there, what do we say? I doubt she’s expecting us.”

Derek shook his head. “Let me handle her. Like I said before we left, Aria is smart and tricky. She’s like a politician. You have to watch what you say very carefully; one wrong word and she could send us out on our asses with no help.” 

Derek stepped back and looked at each one of them in turn. “Are we ready?” They all nodded. “Allison? Lead the way. And remember, do _not_ stop.”

Allison turned towards the walkway, and the rest of them got in line. Stiles chewed on the fingertip of his glove as he waited for her to move, and he felt Derek clasp his hand on his right shoulder. “We’ll get through this fine, Stiles. I’ve got your back,” he whispered into his ear. Stiles nodded quickly, his panic rising in his throat, making him unable to respond. 

The group made their way down the walkway that connected the docks to the atrium with no trouble. There were a couple of random people leaning against the walls, one cradling an arm that looked broken, another sitting on the ground with their head in their hands crying softly. They didn’t pay the group any attention.

As soon as they exited the walkway, Stiles was greeted by an intense rush of noise. He stopped briefly but felt Derek press his hands onto his back, urging him to keep going. All Stiles could hear was the almost painfully loud sounds of fighting and shouting; all he could see were garish, flashing lights and people running in every direction around them. Several cut through their line but no one tried to attack or stop them. Everyone seemed to be as panicked as Stiles felt, and just wanted to get to their own destinations. His head spun with confusion; it took all of his concentration just to keep following the group.

It was a few hundred feet to the front entrance of Afterlife, and when they got there the doors were locked. 

“Shit!” Allison exclaimed. She turned to Scott, pulled the pistol from Scott's side holster and spun back around, shooting the lock on the doors. She kicked them open with her right foot and handed the pistol back to Scott over her shoulder. 

As they entered the club, Stiles looked around and his focus started to come back. Everything seemed normal in here, almost too normal. Patrons were standing around drinking, watching the dancers, gambling at some of the small tables set up near the entrance. Once they got through the first hallway, the room opened up into a huge three story room, complete with a massive circular bar with half a dozen asari dancing on a ring suspended over it. The music was loud, the bass thumping in Stiles’ head. 

“To the right!” Derek shouted, and Allison led their group towards the right side of the bar, to the set of stairs behind it. As they moved quickly through the crowd, Stiles noticed the patrons here were not as normal as they first appeared. Several of them had ripped and dirty clothing, many of them had large cuts and bruises covering their faces or other exposed body parts. Some of them were standing by themselves, swaying to the music, drugged looks on their faces. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, their line was disrupted by a fist fight between a vorcha and a batarian. Blood streamed down from one of the batarian’s eyes while the vorcha bared his needle-like teeth and snapped at his opponent’s neck. 

Moving around the fight, they ran up the stairs to the second floor. Allison headed straight towards the door in the center, which Stiles thought must be the lounge that Aria normally occupied. She opened the door and stood back, allowing the rest of them to enter the room.

Aria’s batarian bodyguards immediately grabbed each one of them, shoving them against the walls of the lounge. Stiles felt his shotgun being removed from its holster, and the guard roughly patting him down from his feet to his shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a sixth guard go through the door and close it behind him. Once the guards finished their inspections, they released the group and stood back. 

“It’s ‘Commander’ now, isn’t it, Hale?” Stiles turned around to see an asari lounging on a curved couch, right ankle crossed over her left knee, arms spread over the back of the cushions. She had a scowl on her face to match the waves of disdain emanating from her body. Stiles didn’t think she could have looked less impressed with Derek than if she had stepped in a pile of volus shit.

“That's correct. I’ve received a promotion since we last spoke,” Derek replied. Aria gave him a look that told him what she thought about that promotion, and beckoned him forward with her left hand. “Sit with me. I assume this is your crew? You’re the captain of Beacon Hills now, right?”

Derek nodded, joining the asari on the couch a few feet away to her left. “Yes, ma’am. This is my pilot, Stilinski, my science officer, Martin, our med doc, McCall, and one of our soldiers, Argent.” Derek pointed at each of them in turn, their backs still against the wall. 

Aria cocked her head. “Argent, related to Chris, the weapons dealer?”

Allison nodded, “He’s my father.”

“Interesting,” Aria replied, narrowing her eyes. She turned back to face Derek. “So what brings you to our pleasant little part of the galaxy? I assume you're here with regards to the little scuffle that’s going on outside these walls?”

“The Alliance has sent us on a covert mission to try and determine the cause of the riot. I thought coming to see you first would be our best option.” Derek looked up at the guard who had left briefly and returned, offering him a brightly colored drink from a tray. Derek declined with a shake of his head, but then grabbed it quickly once he saw Aria’s expression. 

Aria took her own drink off the tray and said, “I appreciate you not lying to me, Hale. You remember my dislike of those who try to bullshit me. I can sniff them out. I'm also not surprised that the Alliance feels they need to stick their noses into this when it's not even their fight. And as much as you remember me, I remember you. Even though I don’t care for you or your pitiful human military, I do think you're the best choice for the job.”

Derek looked taken aback. “Why’s that?”

Aria laughed and shook her head. She gestured at one of her guards, who promptly left the room. “Hold that thought.”

The tension in the room was thick. Even though the guards had taken their guns, Stiles, Scott, and Lydia were trained in biotics, and could easily disable the batarian guards and their flimsy weapons with their powers. Aria, on the other hand, Stiles wasn’t so sure about, since most asari were masters in biotics. Even Stiles' years of training were no match for her power.

After a couple minutes, the guard returned, ushering in a new guest. 

Lydia was blocking Stiles’ view of the newcomer's face, but he could see Scott and Allison’s expressions of shock and disgust. Stiles leaned forward around Lydia, eyes finally landing on the guest.

Peter Hale.

Stiles stepped away from the wall at the same time Derek leapt forward from the couch. One of the guards rushed Stiles and slammed him back against the wall, knocking the breath out of him. Derek received the same treatment, ending up sprawled on the couch.

Peter clicked his tongue, “That’s no way to greet your family, Derek. Unless you were coming to give me a hug?”

“Fuck you,” Stiles spat, unable to stop himself.

The Spectre turned and saw Stiles pressed against the wall by the batarian; he smiled wolfishly. “Stiles! So good to see you as well. You've filled out a bit in the last couple years, haven't you?” Peter leered at Stiles, and Stiles looked away in disgust. “The whole gang’s here, huh?” Peter continued. “Scott, Allison, and… who’s the pretty redhead? Is that Dr. Lydia Martin I’ve heard so much about?”

“None of your fucking business,” Derek grunted, still held flat on the couch by the hand of his own batarian guard. 

Peter rolled his eyes and came to sit on the other side of the asari. “Good evening, Aria. I see you kept your promise in letting me know when my nephew got here.”

Aria scowled at Peter, seemingly more disgusted with him than she was with Derek. Point for her. “I did, now it’s your turn. What do you know about the riot?”

“I’ll explain everything if you get your men off Derek and his crew.” The smile had slipped off Peter’s face, and Stiles had a feeling that this was his true personality, not the cartoonish trickster one he normally wore.

The guard holding Stiles stepped away as did the one pressing Derek into the couch. Aria made a gesture, and the six guards left the room.

“They have better hearing and reflexes than any of you idiots, and if you even think about attacking me, I’ll flatten your asses faster than _they_ could even think to.” Aria stood up and walked over to one of the windows overlooking the bar. “Start talking. I don’t want to sit here all night with you.”

Peter beckoned at the group of four standing against the wall, “Why don’t the rest of you join us on the couch? Get comfy, this might take a while.” He patted the cushions on either side of him.

Luckily the couch was large enough none of them had to sit anywhere near Derek’s uncle. Stiles sat directly to Derek’s left, so close he was pressing his leg Derek's, and the other three sat on Stiles' other side. 

Aria groaned and walked towards the door. “I’m going to need another drink,” she murmured, opening the door and heading out into the hallway. 

Peter looked at them and raised his eyebrows, “I’m assuming you got my messages?”

Derek nodded, “Yes, and at first I was just going to ignore you as planned, but then when you knew about our covert mission that no one outside the upper rankings of the Alliance is even supposed to know about, I figured I needed to find out what you had to say.”

Stiles could feel the rest of the group fidgeting and knew they were looking at each other, trying to process this revelation.

Peter laughed. “I can see from Stiles’ lack of reaction that you told him about my messages but not the rest of your crew. Playing favorites, nephew?”

Lydia clamped her hand down on Stiles’ leg and squeezed. Hard. He knew she was basically giving him a non-verbal “fuck you” for lying about the fact that their commander had told him something he hadn’t told the others.

Luckily they were saved from any more of Peter’s amusing commentary by Aria returning with a tray of drinks. She set it on the table with a “Help yourselves” and collapsed back onto her seat on the couch, creating a barrier between Peter and the crew. 

“Talk, Spectre,” she barked out. 

Peter shifted to face the rest of them, crossing his arms over his chest. “What do you know of Wolfsbane?”

“Wolfsbane is a street drug that causes the user to transform into a rabid wolf,” Lydia said, “attacking anything in sight until they die roughly 48 to 72 hours later. It’s a derivative of a drug created by the salarians and asari, a joint venture, to assist soldiers during combat. The original formulation increased the user’s strength, agility, and speed. However, no one knows how this previously classified substance got distributed into the civilian populations, nor how the current lethal formulation was developed.” 

Peter smiled across the room at her. “Clever girl, our Dr. Martin. You’ve been doing your research, I see.”

Aria sat up and leaned forward, head turned towards Lydia. “How does a human child know so much of the work of two of the most ancient races of the Citadel?”

Lydia’s only response was to arch one of her perfectly groomed eyebrows at the asari.

Stiles, on the other hand, didn’t take the slight on his friend as well as she did. Scooting forward on his cushion, he faced the asari and pointed at her. “This _human child_ is one of the best and brightest scientists the Systems Alliances has on their payroll. She could steamroll most of your asari asses into the…”

“Enough, lieutenant,” Derek ordered as he shoved Stiles back into his seat, giving him a pointed look. _Calm down, or you’ll get us killed_.

Peter sat over on his side of the couch, chuckling to himself. “She’s right, Aria. Although I know something she doesn’t. Not many others know it, to be fair.”

Aria gestured towards Peter, impatient. “Go on!”

With a smug look, Peter continued, “It was the salarians that created this derivative. This twisted, warped version of something meant for more innocent purposes. If you can call war innocent, I guess. It is this version that has been set loose in this fair community of yours, Aria.”

Aria shot up from her seat and marched over to the window overlooking her club. “And the riot…”

Peter made a small noise of affirmation. 

Aria shook her head. “The salarians wouldn’t do that to us. Our relationship goes back thousands of years. This would jeopardize everything we’ve worked to achieve, the council… our laws, everything!” Aria turned around, eyes blazing. 

“Who else would have the ability to alter the drug like that? Nothing as sophisticated as that could be handled by any other race.” Peter stood up from the couch and faced Aria. “You already knew the original formulation had been leaked into the black market and was being sold here on Omega. You didn’t see an issue since you could control the economy. But then the mutated version started to show up. Now with people dying and half the space station on fire, it’s becoming a bit of a problem, and economics aren't really that important anymore.”

At that announcement, Derek stood up, fists clenched at his sides. “You knew the drug had already leaked into civilian society and you did nothing about it? Did you actually see people turn into these creatures and decide to keep your mouth shut?”

Aria turned towards Derek, a look of disdain clear on her face. “Crazy shit like that happens on Omega every day. Do you realize how busy I would be if I intervened every time a junkie overdosed and killed a couple of people? By the time my spies on the streets got word back to me, the riot had already begun. It spread like wildfire. Literally and figuratively.”

Stiles couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This was so much more than any of them could have fathomed. If Peter was right and the salarians had created this fatal version of the drug, then this could be the beginning to some epic fucking war between the first two races of the Citadel. Not exactly something a group of human soldiers were equipped to deal with. 

“Who leaked the original version of the drug?” Allison asked. Stiles turned to look at her.

Peter shrugged, shaking his head. “It’s not important.”

“Of course it’s important!” Aria roared, a purplish hue tinting her cheeks.

Peter raised his hands to placate her. “Rumor is that the asari did it, to try and increase their potential earnings.”

Stiles’ head was spinning. If the rumors were true, which they probably were seeing as how the asari were economical geniuses, then that meant that they were the ones who struck the first blow, and the creation of the derivative formula was an act of retaliation by the salarians. 

Aria stomped over to the previously forgotten tray of drinks, picking it up and hurling it against the back wall. Glass shards and bright liquid flew everywhere. Stiles covered his face with one hand, the other reaching towards Lydia, pressing her head down and trying to shield her from the debris. 

Scott stood up suddenly, arms stretched out in front of him as if trying to calm a group of excited and terrified beasts. “I think we all need to take a step back here. No one in this room did any of this. We are all just observers, and we are only here to try and figure out how to stop the riot. It’s getting late and I think we need to at least sleep on the information we have. Tomorrow morning we can decide what our next steps would be. Commander, is that ok?”

Derek turned to Scott, brows knitted together. He nodded, picking out pieces of glass from his hair, arms dripping in blue liquid. “Do you have any rooms here at the club we could stay in?”

Aria heaved a sigh. “I’ll have my guards escort you there. Tonight I can speak with some of my contacts at the Citadel to see if they know anything about this shitstorm. I’ll give you an update in the morning.”

~~~~

Stiles stuffed his face with another handful of curly fries, grease dripping down his wrist.

“You’re disgusting when you eat, have I ever told you that?” Derek asked around a mouthful of his own fries.

“Whatever, you think it’s hot. Don’t lie.” Stiles took a swig of his beer, washing down the crispy potatoes the batarian guard had brought them along with a couple of burgers. Stiles didn't want to know what kind of meat they were made out of, but he was so starving he didn’t really care.

After the guards had led them to the private section of the club where they had a few guest suites, they had given the crew some extra clothes to change into and then came back a few minutes later with dinner. There were only three open rooms, and with Scott and Allison sharing a room, and Lydia insisting on her own, that meant Stiles had to bunk with Derek. Which he was more than fine with. Obviously because he wanted to discuss the mission, not at all because he wanted to see his commander in his jammies. Obviously.

Derek snorted, finishing off his burger and licking the sauce from between his fingers. Stiles tried not to stare. 

“And you're clearly a paramount of classiness, right? Dude, I think you have ketchup on your forehead.” Stiles pointed at the red smear above Derek’s right eyebrow.

Grabbing a handful of napkins, Derek roughly wiped the offending sauce off his face. He crumpled the soiled papers into a ball and threw it across the room. It landed squarely in the wastebin sitting by the door.

Stiles shook his head; there was no way in a million years he ever would have made that shot himself. Derek turned back to face Stiles and raised his eyebrows twice in succession, like _yea, I know I’m awesome_.

Stiles shoved the last bite of his own burger into his mouth and stood up, heading to take the rest of their trash over to the bin. “We need to talk about that absolute hot fucking mess of a conversation with Aria and Peter, but first I’m gonna take a shower.”

As Stiles was walking over to the adjoining bathroom, grabbing his towel along the way, Derek said playfully, “I promise I won’t walk in on you while you’re jerking off this time.”

Stiles stopped abruptly at the door frame, hand shooting out to steady himself. “Excuse me?” he blurted out, not wanting to turn around and let Derek see what was probably an embarrassing blush creeping up his neck and face.

“I, uh… kinda walked in on you last night and saw you, well. Then I backed up a bit and decided I better announce myself.” Derek sounded a bit embarrassed himself, “Sorry.”

That made Stiles turn around. “If you knew what I was doing, why didn’t you just leave me to it and come back later? That's like the bro code for communal showers, dude.” 

Derek swallowed visibly. “I don't know. I guess you just caught me by surprise.”

Stiles felt bad because Derek was clearly uncomfortable now, and their conversation had gone from lighthearted to serious really fast. “It's ok. Not a big deal. Bet you can't guess what I was thinking about.” He smirked at Derek and headed back to the bathroom.

As Stiles was closing the door, he heard Derek say, “I've got a couple of ideas...”

Stiles was glad he had a door that locked this time.


	4. after time adrift among open stars

Derek sat in front of Stiles, slumped against the wall, head bent forward. Stiles’ body was shaking, adrenaline rushing through his system, teeth chattering. Peter came back into Stiles’ field of vision, moving slowly towards Derek’s still form. Peter threaded his fingers through the commander’s hair, tenderly, then grabbed a hunk of it and pulled his head up.

Stiles could see the bullet hole in the middle of Derek’s forehead, a thin trickle of blood making a path in between his eyes and down the bridge of his nose. Stiles had heard the shot and seen Derek collapse before him, but seeing the wound and the light missing from Derek’s eyes was another thing entirely. The shaking in his limbs turned violent, and his stomach turned over. Stiles struggled in his restraints, the ropes burning the skin on his wrist and upper arms. He turned his head to the side and vomited.

Peter appeared in front of Stiles, blocking his view of Derek’s lifeless body. The Spectre’s fingers caressed Stiles' jaw, his thumb rubbing against his cheek. His head was tilted upwards, and he met Peter’s eyes. Peter reached into a small leather holster on his belt with his free hand, and brought out a small pocket knife. Bile rose in Stiles’ throat again, and he bucked in his chair, trying to move away. 

“Kiss it,” Peter said, placing the flat side of the knife against Stiles’ lips. His body gave a powerful tremor, and he could feel the sharp edge of the blade cut the bottom of his nose.

Peter shook his head, moving the blade away, then disappeared behind the chair Stiles was bound to. The hand on his jaw forced his head up, exposing his neck. 

Peter pressed his lips to Stiles’ right ear, and whispered, “You shouldn’t have got in my way.”

Then the cold metal slid across Stiles’ throat…

“Stiles, wake up!” Derek shouted.

Stiles sat up in his bed, covered in sweat and trembling. Derek was sitting on the edge of the bed, one of his hands splayed across Stiles’ chest. Stiles brought his hands up to grab onto Derek’s arm, but changed his mind and dropped them back to his sides. “What the fuck? Oh my… holy shit, holy shit. You were dead, man. And then he, he fucking…” Stiles flopped down onto his back, out of breath. 

“Calm down, Stiles,” Derek said. “It’s ok, just a nightmare. You were thrashing around and knocked the lamp off your nightstand, and it woke me up.” 

Stiles looked at Derek’s hand still on his chest, and Derek removed it, placing it back in his lap. Stiles looked over at his omni next to his bed; it was the middle of the night but it didn’t feel like he had slept at all. He rubbed his face with his hands and groaned. “Thanks, it was a horrible fucking dream. I…” He hesitated.

‘You don’t have to tell me,” Derek said.

“No, it’s ok, it’s just kind of disturbing,” Stiles explained. “Peter had shot and killed you, and had tied me up in a chair. He was slitting my throat when you woke me up. Fuck. Thanks for waking me up. Seriously. Don’t people say if you die in your dream you die for real?”

Derek chuckled, “I don’t think so. I’m sorry you’re having nightmares about him, though. It’s bad enough dealing with him myself. I hate that he has to inflict himself on my friends too.”

Stiles’ heart skipped a little at Derek’s mention of them being friends. He knew they were, but there was always the want for more. 

“It’s nothing you need to apologize for, you aren’t responsible for him,” Stiles said, sitting up and reaching for his mostly empty glass of water on the nightstand.

“I know I’m not, but none of you would have ever met him if you weren’t on my crew. The shit that happened on Canrum was bad enough, but what he’s gotten us involved in now…” Derek started to get up from Stiles’ bed, but Stiles placed his hand on Derek’s arm, stopping him.

He looked back at Stiles, his expression unreadable. He settled back down though, and drew his right leg up onto the bed. 

“Tell me about Laura, please?” Stiles asked. 

Derek looked down at his hands, a small smile creeping onto his face. It faded quickly. Stiles wasn’t sure Derek would talk, but after a few moments of silence, he took a deep breath and began to speak.

“I was 22, and about a year out of basic,” Derek began. “I was lucky to be assigned to Laura’s crew right after I finished, and we were working on Earth, acting basically as heavy security in some of the slums outside San Francisco. It was actually near where my family is from originally.”

Stiles felt bittersweet at the mention of Derek’s family. Even though he hadn’t mentioned the details of Laura’s death, he often times would tell Stiles stories about growing up in the Hale household. He loved to hear about their huge holiday celebrations; so many cousins, aunts and uncles. For Stiles it was just him and his dad; he couldn’t imagine what it would be like with a large family like the Hales. He also couldn’t imagine losing all of them the way he did in a house fire when Derek was a teenager. Stiles didn’t really know the details of that either. 

Derek continued with his story: “One night we were out on our normal rounds, and the building we patrolled first had a power outage. It was fairly common, so we just went through our regulation protocol, splitting off into groups to check each of the floors. I was on the second floor with two other crew members when we heard what sounded like gunshots above us. We raced up the stairs and found my sister and the two guys that were with her laying face down in the hallway. I ran over to her to check her pulse. She didn’t...”

Derek fisted his hand in the sheets at the memory. Stiles laid his hand over Derek’s; after a moment, Derek unclenched his fist and turned his hand over, threading his fingers through Stiles’. Stiles looked up his face, but Derek had his eyes shut and his head bowed.

“I turned her over,” Derek continued, “and there was a bullet hole right in the middle of her forehead; just like the one you said I had in your dream.” 

Derek cleared his throat; he squeezed Stiles’ hand, almost painfully. “I think I lost a few minutes after that. Not sure what happened. The rest of the squad had showed up, and one of Laura's men was still alive. I remember wanting to carry my sister’s body, but George, my closest friend on the crew, wouldn’t let me. He carried her instead. Which was probably a good thing. My knees kept giving out on me on our way down the stairs.”

Derek took a deep breath and raised his head, eyes open and looking directly at Stiles. “When we got down to the front of the building, Peter was there. Just out of fucking nowhere. Last time I’d seen him was about 4 years prior, on Arcturus. I was just so out of my mind at that point, that it didn’t even seem odd to me. He had a small carrier vehicle, so he took us all to the nearest Alliance hospital. I remember he sat with me outside after we got there, and I finally broke down. Seeing him there was what finally made it sink in. That she was gone.”

Stiles shifted closer and put his free hand on Derek's shoulder. He squeezed, felt Derek's muscles relax underneath. “Why was he there?” 

Derek shrugged and rubbed his thumb over the top of Stiles’ hand, sending shivers up Stiles’ arm. 

“I didn’t even question his appearance until a few days after,” Derek replied. “I was so thankful to have someone there with me, to help me share the burden. But, he refused to tell me why he was there. The more I asked him, and the more he sat there not answering me, the angrier I got.”

“It doesn't make any sense,” Stiles said, “why wouldn't he just tell you?”

“We screamed at each other,” Derek said, frowning. “I don’t even remember what bullshit excuses he gave me, but I knew they were excuses.”

“Did he leave, after your fight?” Stiles asked as he ran his hand down Derek's back. “The way he snuck off after the trials on the Canrum incident?”

Derek looked up, a smirk on his face. “He left after I punched him in the face.” 

Stiles busted out laughing. “You decked him? That’s fucking beautiful! Wow, what I would have paid to see that.”

“He wasn’t very impressed,” Derek explained. “But he didn’t try to hit me back. He just left my apartment. He took off back to the Citadel shortly after that. Just sent me a message. I wrote him back telling him I didn’t ever want to see him again. Next time I did was on Canrum.”

“Shit. And now this fucking disaster we’re currently in.” Stiles rested his hand flat against the top of Derek's spine. “Thank you. For telling me about Laura.”

Stiles looked up and saw Derek give him a sad smile. “You’re welcome, Stiles.”

A bit of an uncomfortable silence followed, both of them staring at one another. 

Derek spoke first. “We should get back to sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

Stiles nodded, untangling his fingers from Derek's. When Derek stood up to walk back to his bed, Stiles felt a pang of regret. He lay down and pulled the blankets over him.

~~~~

In the morning neither of them brought up the events from the middle of the night. Stiles ended up drifting in and out of periods of lucid dreaming, catching flashes of real memories and fake ones; dead friends and family members he had never met but felt like he knew. Aria’s guards had brought a couple of trays with breakfast, and a large carafe of steaming hot coffee. Stiles gulped down about two full cups before he even touched his food. It only helped slightly clear the fog in his head.

Derek and Stiles moved about their room in silence, trading off time in the bathroom, showering, shaving, finishing their breakfasts. The quiet made Stiles feel antsy; he usually didn’t go this long without speaking. He wanted to rekindle the feeling he had last night in the dark with Derek on his bed, hands clasped, sharing stories. 

“Derek…” Stiles started, unable to finish his thought as Derek looked up at him, eyes bloodshot. Guess he didn’t much sleep either.

“Yeah?” Derek asked, his uniform shirt dangling from his fingers.

Stiles moved towards Derek, and wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him tight. Derek froze, and Stiles laughed. “Dude, just give me a hug.”

He felt Derek’s arms slide around his waist as he was pulled tighter into the embrace. 

Stiles smiled against Derek’s shoulder, “There we go big guy. That wasn't so hard, was it?” A warm feeling pooled in his belly at the smell of soap and shampoo still fresh on Derek's skin.

Derek's chest shook as he laughed. “No.”

It wasn't hard at all, actually. Touching Derek, being comfortable with him, was actually quite easy.

~~~~

Once they all met by the bar, and Aria joined them, the crew decided together that they needed to find out more about the drug itself before they could determine their next move. The asari told them that she had some of her spies gather intelligence overnight, and found out the name of the head salarian scientist that developed the original formulation of the drug. 

“His name is Dr. Alan Deaton,” Aria explained. “And all of my sources say his lab is on the salarian homeworld, Sur-kesh. It’s been awhile since I’ve been there, but it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to stop at the Citadel and grab some more weaponry, maybe a bit more intel.”

“I can talk with my dad,” Stiles said. “See if he knows anything that could help.”

Derek nodded. “Good idea. Scott can get some supplies from his mother at the hospital too, and we can pay a visit to Allison's father to check out what he has in stock.”

“Oh dude, I need a new shotgun so badly,” Stiles said. Last time he fired his Katana, sparks shot out the side.

“Also, you should take one of my spies with you,” Aria said. “She was the one who found out the doctor’s name.” She turned and yelled behind her, “Erica! Get your ass in here.” The asari turned back to face the group. “She’s pretty good with an assault rifle. I would advise not pissing her off.”

A younger-looking asari sauntered into the bar from one of the side rooms, lips painted cherry red, her large breasts barely covered by a tight white t-shirt. “Howdy,” the newcomer said, running her tongue over her teeth as she cocked her hip, hand planted firmly on it.

Derek shook his head and pointed at Erica. “I didn’t agree to this. Having a stranger tag along on our mission would be dangerous for us and for her. She isn’t military trained, and probably doesn’t follow orders. I won’t have one of my crew hurt because she doesn’t know what she’s doing. And I won’t have her death on my hands either.”

Aria laughed, “I don’t give a shit what you want, Hale. You involved me in this, so I say she goes with you. Figure it out, hotshot.”

Erica glanced over at Scott, eying him from head to toe. “Oh, I can follow orders just fine.”

Allison moved towards Erica, and hovered a hand over her holster. Erica held her hands up in surrender.

“Play nice, Erica, or the pretty C-Sec officer might put a hole in your head.” Aria looked like she was only too happy to see her spy cause a little havoc in Derek’s crew. She turned to Erica and poked her in the chest. “Behave, little one. This is some serious shit. If you want a promotion, you’ll follow Commander Hale’s orders while you’re with him. Or I’ll kill you myself.”

Eventually Derek capitulated to Aria’s demand, and they left the bar. Not before running into Peter though. Who also convinced Derek to let him join them on their mission. 

~~~~

Derek sat down in the empty co-pilot chair next to Stiles and heaved a huge sigh. Stiles finished the diagnostics he was running and looked over at Derek. 

“We'll be at the Citadel in about an hour,” Stiles said. 

Derek nodded. “Remind me why I let Peter come with us?”

Stiles laughed and shook his head. “Dude, I have no idea. What's he doing now? I mean besides just being an utter douchenozzle as usual?”

“He thinks because he's the big bad Spectre that he somehow outranks us all,” Derek said. He grabbed Stiles' hat off his head and put it on his own, tilting the bill over his face to cover his eyes. He settled into the chair and put his feet up on the console in front of him. “He keeps ordering all of us around, myself included, and it's confusing the crew. And annoying me. He got pissed because we're out of regular bunks and now he has to sleep down in Engineering. Tried to get me to give up my own room.”

“You shut that down immediately, right?” Stiles asked. 

“Of course,” Derek answered, the corners of his mouth turning up in a smile. 

Stiles fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “Because I was gonna say, if you didn't, you could always just bunk with me.” 

The smile disappeared from Derek's face. “I don't think that's appropriate.”

“Why?” Stiles asked. He didn't understand why Derek's demeanor changed so quickly. Usually he played along with Stiles' flirting. And Stiles felt like something had changed between them the night before, something good. He thought that Derek opening up to him was a step towards something more, gave Stiles hope that perhaps he did have a shot. But maybe, as always, Stiles was misreading this. 

Derek stood up, taking off Stiles' hat and setting it down on the console. “It's just... It's just not, Stiles.” Derek left the bridge, and Stiles dropped his head into his hands, wondering where he went wrong.


	5. you sure you want to play this game

“So, Officer Boyd, how do you like working under Executor Stilinski?” Stiles asked, walking faster to keep pace with the tall turian C-Sec officer who was escorting him through headquarters.

“Executor Stilinski’s a great boss,” Boyd responded, much to Stiles’ dismay. One of his favorite things in life was trying to get his father’s officers to talk shit about him before finding out Stiles was his son. Their facial expressions were always worth his father’s wrath. Always.

Boyd stopped outside of the door to Stilinski’s office, knocking lightly. Stiles heard a muffled reply from inside, and Boyd answered that Stiles was there to visit. The door slid open and Stiles walked in, Boyd following behind.

“Stiles!” Getting up from behind his desk, Stiles’ dad rushed over to give his son a hug. 

“Hi, Dad,” Stiles said, breathing in the cheap cologne his father always wore; he closed his eyes, happy to see him. Both Stilinskis had such dangerous occupations. Every time Stiles and his father met, he wondered if it could be the last time they saw each other. 

“Sit down, son,” his dad said, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk. Stilinski sat back down in his own.

“I thought you were on leave right now?” his dad asked. “Stiles, I spoke to you a couple days ago and you told me you had just returned from a mission. What’s going on here?”

“I'm on a sorta secret mission,” Stiles explained. “Well, not really that secret, but the big guys over at Arcturus don't want us announcing this to the general population. They sent us to investigate the riot on Omega. We just came from there, and spoke to Aria T’loak; you know her?”

His dad nodded. “Yeah. She have any idea what's going on?”

Stiles shook his head. “She didn't when we first got there. But Peter Hale was there already, had sent Derek a message asking to meet him on Omega.”

“Hold on,” his dad said. “Peter Hale, as in the same guy that gave you all that trouble on the krogan mission a couple years back?”

“Yep,” Stiles replied. “The very same asshole.”

Stiles' dad gave him a stern look.

“Sorry, sir,” Stiles said. “This feels like Canrum all over again. He knows way more than he probably should, and he's getting too involved in our mission. I don't trust him.”

“Well,” his dad said, crossing his arms, “I think you've always had a good instinct about these things, son. There's nothing wrong with being cautious. What does Derek think about his uncle being back in the picture?”

Stiles frowned. “He hates him. But I think he knows that Peter has more intel on this mission than we could have ever hoped for, so he can't very well tell him to leave.”

His dad nodded. “Understood. But the minute you expect Peter might double cross your crew, or put any of you in danger, you tell Derek about it. He listens to you.”

“I know he does,” Stiles said, smiling. When Stiles' dad first met Derek, he gave Derek such an intense grilling, Stiles thought Derek was going to jump out the window. Instead, after Stiles' dad had left, Derek said, “I like your dad.” Turns out the feeling was mutual. Stiles couldn't remember a conversation with his dad where he wasn't asked at least once about Derek.

“So what is this invaluable information that Peter has?” his dad questioned. 

'What do you know about Wolfsbane?” Stiles asked. 

“The performance enhancement drug?” Stiles' dad replied, leaning forward and placing his hands flat on the desk.

Stiles nodded.

“Just some minor details,” his dad responded, standing up and walking over to the corner of the room where he kept a cart with his favorite whiskey. He uncapped the bottle and poured a small amount into a glass. He tipped the bottle towards Stiles, but Stiles shook his head to decline. “I know it was developed initially for troops by the salarians. Funded by the asari. But now there’s a bad version, and it’s spreading throughout Citadel space. Makes people vicious, turns them into some kind of animal -”

“A wolf,” Stiles interjected.

His dad nodded as he drained the whiskey and then set down his empty glass. “And I’m guessing that’s the cause of the riot, then. These users attacking others? People freaking out?”

“It seems like it,” Stiles responded. “Aria gathered some intelligence for us before we left, said a salarian named Alan Deaton was the scientist who developed the original drug.”

Stiles’ dad turned around to face him, arms crossed. “I know Deaton, worked with him a few years back on a case. He’s good people, not a guy I could see making something that has such terrible side effects.”

“We don’t know that he made the bad version though,” Stiles said, “just that he made the first official drug for the military. But Peter did say that it was definitely the salarians who created the derivative.” 

“We guessed it might have been the asari that leaked the drug out into the public,” his dad said. “Were we correct?”

“That's what Peter told us,” Stiles replied.

“Are you heading to Sur’kesh, then?” Stiles' dad asked.

“Yeah,” Stiles answered. “After we grab some extra firepower and supplies here.”

“Alright, let me give you some intel on it, and a few places you might be able to find Deaton.” Stiles’ dad ran his fingers over the keyboard of his desktop computer, bringing up windows of information on the salarian home world. “While you're here, Stiles, we need to talk about Derek.”

Stiles squinted his eyes and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “We already did, Dad.”

“No,” his dad responded, “we talked about him with regards to your mission. That's not what I'm getting at. I want to know how things are going with the two of you. You never tell me enough over the phone.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Stiles said. 

Stiles' dad looked up from his computer, a look of exasperation on his face. “Don't give me that crap. You know exactly what I'm talking about. You've been dancing around this for years now. Now man up and tell him how you feel, or I will.”

“Dad!” Stiles exclaimed. “I can't -” He rubbed the heel of his hands on his forehead. “I don't know if he feels the same way, ok? I honestly don't. Believe me, Lydia's been harping on me about it too.”

“Stiles,” his dad said, a sad look on his face. “not everyone will leave you.”

And there it was. Stiles and his abandonment issues. Everyone left him, eventually, in some way. His mother passing when he was a boy. His first girlfriend breaking up with him on prom night, only to go home with one of Stiles' friends. The guy he fooled around with while he was in basic training, who kept their relationship a secret until finally telling Stiles he was just an experiment, a trial run to see if he liked men. Even Lydia, who left Stiles in her own way. She said it was mutual, and for the most part it was. But Stiles never felt like she had completely forgotten about Jackson while they were together. For once he just wanted someone all to himself, someone that wouldn't treat him like a second choice. And Stiles' biggest fear with Derek was that if Derek didn't like him like that, then a confession of romantic feelings might ruin their friendship. Stiles couldn't bear to lose that, it was too important. 

“You don't know that,” Stiles said.

“No, I don't,” his dad responded. “But let me ask you this: are you happy when you're around him?”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah.”

“The you owe it to yourself to at least try,” Stiles' dad said, a small smile wrinkling the skin around his eyes.

After his dad finished gathering what information he could find on Deaton, Stiles hugged him tightly before he left his office, his father's words about Derek echoing in his mind.

~~~~

Stiles found Derek and Erica in an armor shop in the Presidium, arguing over a vest. Waving to the shop owner as he walked inside, Stiles wandered over to see what they were fighting about.

“I won't be able to fight in this,” Erica complained. “I need to be able to move fast, that's why I never wear armor.”

Derek shoved the vest into her hands. “Because you normally do reconnaissance work. When you're with us you need to be prepared for a full on gun battle. This is made of bullet resistant fabric. We all wear them.”

Derek nodded at Stiles in greeting. Stiles gave him a small smile and stood next to him. “He's right.”

“It's ugly,” Erica said. 

“They're not bad once you put them on,” Stiles said. “And you can just put another shirt on over it anyways. What's the big deal?”

Erica scoffed and spun around, heading over to the dressing rooms. “I'll try it on if you guys do.”

Derek sighed. “I need a new one anyways.” He bent over to look through the vests in his size, rifling through the armor. Stiles tried not to stare at Derek's ass. He failed.

“Are you a medium or a large?” Derek asked. He stood up straight and turned around, holding a couple vests out to Stiles. Stiles quickly moved his gaze to Derek's face.

“Ah, medium, I think?” Stiles replied, and took the armor from Derek as he handed it over. He followed Derek to the dressing room stalls. Derek disappeared behind a curtain and Stiles entered the one next to it. He took his shirt off and stuck his arms through the sleeves in the vest and hooked the clasps together to secure it. 

Stiles pulled back the curtain and walked over to the mirrors. Erica was standing next to him wearing her own vest, breasts pushed together and spilling out the top. She smiled at Stiles' reflection and her eyes darted to his stomach, where his skin was exposed over the waist of his pants. Derek came out of his stall, and it took all of Stiles' willpower to not ogle his biceps.

“See?” said Stiles, flexing in the mirror. “We look damn good in these things.”

“Yeah, we do,” Erica said. She sidled up to Stiles and put her hand on his arm. “You're aware of how the asari mate, aren't you?”

Stiles nodded, eyes wide. He opened his mouth to let her know just how aware when Derek cut him off.

“Alright, that's enough. Take those off so we can get the fuck out of here.” Derek stormed off to his dressing room stall, yanking the curtain aside so hard that the corner ripped.

Erica chuckled as she left to change back into her clothes. “Your boyfriend gets jealous pretty easily, doesn't he?”

Stiles stood there for another moment staring at himself in the mirror and sighed as he turned back to the stall. “He's not my boyfriend,” he mumbled under his breath.

~~~~

Stiles walked past a vendor selling what looked suspiciously like jars of hanar poison and small piles of elcor dung, plugging his nose against the stench. He tried to step out of the way of two volus rushing by, arguing about market exchange rates, and ended up bumping into Boyd. He shoved him away gently, and Stiles murmured an apology. 

Stiles' dad had insisted on Boyd joining their crew temporarily, and he met up with Boyd after they checked out at the armor shop. Derek had agreed without much hesitation; all C-Sec officers were excellent marksmen, and they could use all the help they could get. Stiles wasn’t sure though if the officer liked him very much. Boyd was pretty quiet, and Stiles saw his mandibles twitch in frustration at Stiles’ commentary as they headed over to Chris Argent’s weapon shop. Allison’s father ran a slightly less than legal weapons and armor stall in the lower wards, and they were meeting the rest of their crew there to stock up on guns and ammo.

Scott, Allison, and Lydia were already there, deep in conversation with Allison’s father as he showed off several different weapons, pointing out features on each of them. Stiles walked up behind Scott and clapped him on the back.

“Hey, buddy,” Stiles said, grinning widely at his friend.

“Hey man, how was your dad?” Scott asked, turning away from the stall to put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. 

Stiles nodded, moving out of the way of Derek, who was trying to get closer to the collection of assault rifles on display. “He’s good. Gave us some intel on Alan Deaton and Sur’kesh.”

Scott raised his eyebrows. “Cool! My mom gave us a shit load of meds and omni-gel. I also ordered this sweet new surgery robot; it’s getting sent to the ship.”

“Awesome, dude.” Stiles smiled; he loved how excited his friend got at new medical equipment.

Stiles heard Derek calling him over, so he left Scott to introduce himself to Boyd and went over to where Derek was standing. As he walked past the cluster of bodies standing around the weapons stall, Stiles could hear Erica flirting with Boyd. If anyone could get Boyd to crack a smile, it would be Erica.

Derek was holding up two shotguns when Stiles joined him, looking back and forth between them. Derek handed over the gun in his right hand.

“Whoa, is this a Sokolov?” Stiles asked, turning the gun over in his hands. It was one of the most expensive and powerful shotguns on the market. Stiles had yet to see one in person. 

“Yep,” Derek responded, running his hands over the barrel of the gun he was still holding. “And this is an HMWSG, which is Spectre gear. Not exactly sure how Chris got ahold of one of these…”

Stiles had a pretty good idea how Allison’s father got most of his illegal weaponry. They weren’t about to turn him in though. 

“How much?” Stiles cringed when he thought about how few credits he had in his account. He really needed a new shotgun, but these two models were probably so out of his price range it wouldn't even be funny. 

Derek handed the illegal Spectre weapon to Stiles. He took it, weighing both guns against each other in his hands. 

“Which one would you pick, if they were free?” Derek asked, smiling at Stiles with his lips closed.

Stiles guffawed, “Free? Both! Dual-wielding these motherfuckers.”

Derek laughed, shaking his head. He turned back to the stall as Stiles examined the guns, drooling a bit at the craftsmanship. He didn’t need to know how much they cost; he wouldn’t be able to afford either. He set them down and walked over to where Scott was looking at a display of pistols. They talked quietly about how Erica was telling Boyd dirty jokes and getting him to laugh. Lydia tutted next to Stiles, smacking him lightly on the back of the head, telling him to leave the two newbies alone. 

“I think they make a cute couple,” Lydia said, tilting her head as she looked back at them huddled in conversation.

Stiles shrugged, indifferent. “Are you getting anything?” he asked.

Lydia shook her head. “No, don’t need anything here. I did buy a new bio-amp implant though. You should check out the stall I got it from, they’ve got a great selection.” She pointed behind Stiles at a stall in the corner, a surly-looking drell behind the counter. From the sign above the drell it looked like they sold a wide variety of the implants that biotics users needed to have their powers. Other than the asari, who were gifted naturally with biotic abilities at birth, any other species had to have an implant in order to use biotics.

Stiles turned around, craning his neck to see what they had on display. He could really use a couple new implants himself, and they would be cheaper here than in the Upper Wards. 

“I think you better get started on some dual-wield training,” Derek said from his right. “The recoil might knock you on your ass though.”

Shocked, Stiles turned to face Derek, who was holding the two shotguns from before, handing them over to Stiles.

“What?” Stiles asked, mouth dropping open as he took the proffered weapons. “I can’t afford these, Derek. I don’t…”

Derek handed him a long black bag, shaking his head. “You don’t have to worry about it, Stiles. Consider it a gift.”

Derek bought the guns for him? 

“Derek, I can’t take these, how much did they cost? A gift for what?” Stiles sputtered, unsure of why Derek was doing this.

Derek shrugged. “Don’t ask, just says thanks.”

“Thanks…” Stiles said.

Derek left, returning to the section of assault rifles again, leaving Stiles standing there gaping like a fish. Lydia grabbed the bag out of hands and held it open for him, shaking it to get his attention. 

“You two are pathetic,” she said as Stiles slides the guns into the bag.

~~~~

“One more, please.”

Stiles waved at the bartender, pushing his empty glass towards the edge of the bar, condensation slicking his fingers.

“Are you sure you should have another, Stiles?” Scott asked, hand on his shoulder. “You’ve gotta fly our ship tomorrow, remember? Won’t be much fun if you’re hung over.”

The quarian tending the bar came over and grabbed Stiles’ glass. The bartender looked over at Allison sitting next to Scott, then back at Scott again. The poor guy had been doing this all night. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off either of them, and had already broken two glasses and a bottle of vodka in his haste to not be caught staring. The first time Stiles saw the guy looking, he could have sworn he saw the quarian blush under his face mask.

“I’m fine, Scott. I can handle a couple more drinks before I get drunk enough to get hung over.” Stiles had decided to join Scott and Allison for drinks and dancing at Purgatory bar. After they finished shopping in the Lower Wards, the crew checked into their hotel rooms in the Presidium. Erica and Boyd had come with them too; they were on the dance floor, Erica rubbing and grinding herself against Boyd.

Allison leaned forward so she could see around Scott. “Stiles, are you still freaking out about Derek buying the guns for you? You know he just did it as a nice gesture.”

“Stiles is freaking out over it because he likes Derek,” Scott explained, looking up at the bartender as he returned with Stiles’ drink. 

“What the fuck, dude?” Stiles yelled, smacking Scott on the shoulder. 

“It’s ok. Allison already knows you jerk off thinking about him, Stiles.” Scott waved at the bartender, motioning for him to come back.

Stiles dropped his head onto the bar, winced at the dull pain. “Scott...”

Allison laughed, clearly enjoying Stiles’ misery and shame.

Stiles could hear Scott asking the quarian’s name, Isaac or something like that. Allison and Scott introduced themselves and started talking to him about his job and living on the Citadel. Stiles tuned them out, choosing instead to wallow in his thoughts about Derek.

It wasn’t just the guns, which honestly, probably cost Derek more than Stiles makes in a year’s salary from the Alliance. It was the way Derek confided in him, trusted him more than anyone else on their crew. That he felt comfortable telling Stiles about his sister, about Peter. And how he woke him from his nightmare, making sure Stiles was alright. How he held his hand. How he hugged him. 

Stiles sat up, looking at another empty glass. One more and he would stop. Scott was right; hangovers and flying did not mix well. But Isaac was still deep in conversation with Scott and Allison. Stiles sighed. He could go to another part of the bar to refill his drink, or he could just go back to his hotel room and go to sleep. The latter was probably the more responsible thing to do. And all this thinking about Derek made a session of lonely, depressed jerking off followed by a steaming hot hotel shower sound like a great idea. 

Stiles slid off the barstool and waved goodbye to his friends. They barely noticed him leave; both were too busy flirting with Isaac anyways.

Stumbling out the front door of the club, Stiles made his way slowly down the hallway and into the open area of the Presidium to head back to his hotel. He kept thinking about Derek. Unable to untangle his thoughts, worried he was reading too much into his commander’s behavior. Worried that he was projecting his attraction onto him, that simple gestures of friendship were being misconstrued as something more romantic. Stiles had never remembered Derek dating at all the entire time he’d known him. He wasn’t even completely sure Derek was into guys. Stiles thought he remembered a few comments here and there, and he hoped he was.

Stiles found himself exiting the elevator on the fifth floor of the hotel, instead of the third, where his own room was. Derek’s room was on the fifth floor, though. And even though Stiles wasn’t black-out drunk, he was at that stage where he usually developed a false sense of courage. So he decided to go talk with Derek. See if what he was feeling wasn’t totally one-sided.


	6. you must think I am a complete and utter fool

Derek looked like he had literally dragged himself out of bed to answer the door. His hair stuck up in several different directions, boxer briefs slung low on his hips. He looked beautiful to Stiles, almost otherworldly with the lights from the Presidium streaming in through the windows framing him. 

Stiles stepped forward, not waiting for Derek to ask him in, and Derek moved backwards, pliant with sleep, a small frown of confusion on his face. Stiles walked over to the dresser, leaning over and placing his hands on the cold metal surface to steady himself. His head was spinning, adrenaline coursing through him, nerves shot. Thinking was overrated; Stiles needed to act, needed to either make a move or get over this schoolboy crush. 

“What are you doing here, Stiles?” Derek asked, voice rough from sleep. “It’s the middle of the night.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yeah, man, I know. But I was at the bar with Scott and Allison. And there was this bartender, and I think maybe they were gonna pick him up? Wow, I think they were going to have a threesome or something with him? Do people actually do that? I mean I know they do, but Scott? And Allison?”

Derek grabbed Stiles by his bicep, gently turning him around to face him. “Stiles, what’s wrong?”

Stiles opened his mouth to respond, unable to find the right words. Instead he clasped his hands onto Derek’s shoulders and pulled. Crashing into each other chest to chest, Stiles slid his hand up the back of Derek’s neck, fingers combing through thick soft hair. He pressed his lips to Derek’s and felt him gasp into his mouth, shoulders tensed under his fingers. Stiles licked his bottom lip, sucked it into his own mouth. He released it with a slick pop, raised his eyes to Derek’s. Derek stood unmoving in front of him, mouth agape, eyes wide. 

“Oh, shit,” Stiles stammered out. “I’m. I’m so sorry, Derek. I just, really wanted to do that for a long time.” He removed his hands from Derek, stepped back, ass hitting the dresser. 

Stiles turned and ran towards the door, yanking it open as he shot a hand out to the wall to balance himself. He heard Derek yell something behind him as he fled down the hall to the elevators, but he was too far away to understand what he said. 

~~~~

Stiles woke the next morning to a loud knock at his door. Groaning, he rolled over, smashing his face into the softness of his pillow. The knock came again. Stiles kicked the blankets off, slid one leg off the bed. 

Shuffling to the door, he only just remembered how he made a complete fool of himself last night in Derek’s hotel room; so when he opened the door and found Derek staring back at him, Stiles’ heart sank.

Derek raised an eyebrow, asked, “How are you feeling this morning, lieutenant?”

Stiles closed his eyes and sighed. If Derek was being formal, then that was a bad sign. “Fine, sir. Maybe a bit like I want to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment, but besides that, a pretty regular morning.”

“May I come in?” Derek asked.

Stiles nodded and backed away from the door, allowing Derek to pass into the room. He closed the door behind him and walked over to fix the blankets in case he wanted to sit down. Derek had wandered over to the window and was opening the curtains, the light flashing in painful to Stiles’ sleep-sensitive eyes.

Derek turned around, and crossed his arms. “Are you going to explain to me what happened last night, Stiles?” Derek looked impassive, face controlled and without much expression. Stiles started to worry, thinking that maybe a stupid drunken choice last night was going to cost him his job, or even worse, his friend. He knew that technically relations between senior officers and their crewmembers were not looked upon very kindly by the Alliance. But that didn’t mean they didn’t still happen. Stiles knew Derek was not one to break many rules, but this one could be something that Derek would absolutely not tolerate. Or maybe it was just as Stiles feared, that Derek simply wasn’t interested in Stiles that way. This was why he had never told Derek, why he never let him know how he felt. He was terrified that Derek would reject him, and Stiles would lose him completely.

Stiles needed to apologize, as formally as possible, and hope that Derek would let it pass. If he could do that, then maybe their friendship at least could be salvaged. “Please accept my apologies, Commander Hale. I was inebriated and I did not think my actions through. It will never happen again.”

“Never again?” Derek asked, jaw tightening.

Stiles nodded his head, “Correct. I would like to formally request your lenience, sir. I very much enjoy my job as a pilot, and especially serving under you. I know -”

Derek dropped his hands to his side and walked forward quickly. “Stiles, I’m not going to fire you. What are you talking about?” A deep frown was on Derek's face, his forehead wrinkled. He put a hand on Stiles’ arm, his skin warm against the cold chill of the hotel room. 

“Oh, but,” Stiles began, not sure he understood what was going on here. “I thought you came in here to reprimand me. I thought I was in trouble.”

Derek smiled, his lips wide, teeth showing. “Well, I guess I could reprimand you, if you wanted.” With a sharp intake of breath, Stiles remembered their conversation from a few days before; flirting in the hallway of the ship, Derek's cheeks flushed a bright red. Stiles' own face warmed with the memory. 

Stiles bit his bottom lip. “But, the way you reacted, I just thought. You know, that you weren’t interested. So, I left. And then, when you came in just now, I thought you were mad. Like, gonna fire me mad.”

“Did you only kiss me because you were drunk?” Derek asked.

“No. I wasn’t really that drunk. It just helped me get the courage I haven’t had for a long time.” Stiles tried to search Derek’s expression for some semblance of a clue to how he felt.

“But you won’t do it again?” Derek frowned, looked down at his feet.

Stiles covered Derek’s hand on his arm with his own. “Only if you don’t want me to. And I’m not real sure here what’s ok for me to say to you. It seemed so easy last night, but not so much right now.”

Derek looked up, eyes wide. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“Anything?” Stiles asked, gripping Derek’s hand tightly. Derek nodded, and the words started to tumble out. “How about that I’ve wanted to kiss you for years now, more than kiss actually. And that even if I could never get to do that, I would be happy just to continue to serve by your side. That would be enough for me, honestly. But there are some times when it just boils over, when it feels like all of my want for you just comes pouring out, I can’t stop it. And last night was one of those times. And I was stupid, and drank too much. And I was mad, seeing Scott and Allison, who are already so happy. Wondering why I couldn’t be happy like that just for once. So, no I didn’t kiss you just because I was drunk. And yes, I would do it again, if you want me to.”

Derek was breathing heavily, eyes darting over Stiles’ face. The hand on his arm slid up his bicep, and Stiles released his grip, wrapped his arm around Derek’s shoulder, fingers splayed along the back of his neck. Derek tugged him closer, arms wrapping around Stiles’ back, squeezing tight. Warm soft lips touched his, and Stiles closed his eyes, sighing. 

Stiles pressed slow, closed-mouth kisses to Derek’s lips, squeezed the back of his neck as he felt a quiet moan rumble across his mouth. Derek opened his mouth and licked along the underside of Stiles’ bottom lip, and Stiles opened his own lips in return, tilting his head so he could run his tongue against Derek’s. They stood still in the hotel room, tongues and lips searching, chests pressed close so they could feel each other's heartbeats. Stiles released Derek’s mouth and opened his eyes, ran his nose up against Derek’s, smiling. 

“I didn’t know you wanted that,” Stiles said. “Wanted me.”

Derek smiled. “I have since you joined my crew.”

Stiles reared back, eyes opening in shock. “What? Why did you never say anything? Do you have any idea how long I’ve been freaking, like, pining over you?”

“I honestly didn't know how you felt,” Derek said. “I was afraid you were just being friendly, like you are with everyone. I was afraid you weren't really over Lydia. But she said something to me, just a small comment, a few months ago....”

“So, is that why you've been flirting with me recently?” Stiles asked as he ran his hands over Derek’s biceps, curved over his shoulders. “I wasn’t misinterpreting things, right?”

Derek nodded, placed a light kiss on Stiles’ lips. “You were right. I just wanted you to make the first move. If I wasn’t right, if you didn’t want me that way, it could've come off as an abuse of power, and that’s not at all what I want.”

“Dude, I am so mad!” Stiles laughed, pressed the heels of his hands into the muscle of Derek’s shoulders, shoved him backwards slightly. “We could have been doin’ it for years!”

Derek rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his face. “We could have, yes.” 

Stiles stepped forward, hands on Derek’s shoulders again, pressed harder this time; Derek righted himself as he lost his footing. “Not cool, totally pissed off we haven’t been fucking like bunnies in your captain’s lounge in the ship. That shit is swanky.” Stiles winked at Derek.

Derek stood still, mouth parted slightly, pupils dilated. Stiles stepped towards him again, this time keeping his hands on Derek as he shoved him backwards, Derek’s back hitting the wall next to the window. Stiles crowded him, felt Derek’s chest rising and falling quickly, watched him wet his lips. He spoke against Derek’s open mouth, breathing onto spit wet skin, “You like that, don’t you big guy? Like when I get a little rough?”

Derek nodded, bunched his hands into Stiles’ shirt at his back, the fabric stretching taut around his middle. 

“No,” Stiles said. “Let me hear you say it.”

Derek grabbed onto Stiles’ ass and pulled him forward; he thrust his hips, and Stiles felt Derek’s hardness against his own. “Yes,” Derek hissed out.

Stiles smashed his lips against Derek’s, teeth clacking in his haste. Derek made a pained noise, and Stiles ran his hands down Derek’s chest, fingers spread over his ribs. The kiss was filthy and wet; lips getting caught between teeth, tongues twisting into each other’s mouths. Stiles bucked his hips, grinding into Derek. The hands on his ass squeezed hard, kneading his flesh, pulling him in closer. Moving from Derek’s lips to his neck, Stiles mouthed open wet kisses in a line, pausing over Derek’s Adam’s apple, tenderly sucking a bruise over the delicate skin. 

“Off,” Stiles murmured, pulling at Derek’s shirt, trying to remove it. “Get this off, now.”

Derek grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted, muscles bunching and flexing under Stiles’ gaze. Tapping his fingers over Derek’s stomach, Stiles traced the lines and grooves, making them jump underneath his touch. He looked up at Derek, found him smiling, huffing out quiet laughter. 

“Ticklish?” Stiles asked, placing a kiss at the corner of Derek’s mouth.

“A bit.” Derek leaned forward and caught Stiles’ bottom lip between his teeth. 

Stiles moaned, slipped his own shirt off, tossing it behind him. He pressed his naked chest against Derek’s, loving the feel of their skin touching. Stiles tilted Derek’s head up, licked a thick stripe up the underside of his chin, opened his mouth and scraped his teeth over his jaw. Derek shuddered beneath his hands, and Stiles lowered his hands to unbutton Derek’s pants. 

“I want to suck you off,” Stiles said, lips brushing against Derek’s ear. 

“Yes. Please, Stiles.”

Stiles dropped to his knees, looked up at Derek as he finished unzipping his pants. He smiled as he dragged the pants down Derek’s thighs. He watched Derek’s chest rise and fall quickly, the breath punched out of him as Stiles ran his lips and tongue over his hard cock, the fabric of Derek’s briefs soaking with spit. 

Stiles curled his fingers over the waistband of Derek’s briefs and pulled, elastic catching on the head of Derek’s cock. It slapped against Derek’s stomach as Stiles yanked harder, forcing the briefs further down, letting them fall to the ground. Stiles wrapped his hand around the hard flesh, thumb rubbing the wetness dripping from the slit, fingers squeezing the shaft. Derek made a muffled noise, threw his head back against the wall; Stiles licked up the length of Derek’s dick, holding it in place loosely with his fingers, and Derek rolled his hips. Wrapping his lips around the head, Stiles massaged his tongue along the smooth skin, inhaled through his nose, and sank down as far as he could. He felt the tip of Derek’s cock hit the back of his throat and he swallowed, fighting the gag reflex. He looked up to watch Derek’s face as he swallowed around him again, saw Derek hiss as he reflexively thrust his hips forward. Stiles pressed his hands against Derek’s hips, held him to the wall so he could keep control. 

Slowly, Stiles slid his mouth up Derek’s cock, cheeks hollowed. He dropped down to suck at Derek’s balls, took one in his mouth, released it with a small pop, then returned to a slow methodical rhythm. Down slowly, swallow, suction as he came back up, repeat. Derek settled his hands in Stiles’ hair, rubbed his fingertips into his scalp. Stiles kept his eyes on Derek’s, watching for every reaction. He sped up, wrapped his hand around the base of Derek’s dick, twisting his grip as he sucked him into his mouth. Derek began making small wordless noises, grinding his hips again under Stiles’ hand. Stiles let go of Derek’s hip and reached around, spread Derek’s ass cheeks as he continued to work him with his mouth. Derek’s fingers in his hair tightened, pulling almost painfully at Stiles’ scalp. 

“Fuck,” Derek breathed out, eyes squeezed shut. “Stiles, I’m close.”

Stiles hummed around his dick, pressed one finger against the soft skin of Derek’s asshole. Derek shouted as Stiles tightened his grip on his cock, slid the tip of his finger inside him. Stiles braced his shoulders against Derek’s thighs as he came, yelling Stiles’ name, jerking his hips violently. Stiles let Derek’s cock slide out of his mouth, flinched when a final spurt of come landed on his cheek. He stood up and flattened his palms on Derek’s chest, watched it move under them as Derek breathed heavily, felt his heartbeat tap out a rapid pattern. Stiles wiped the come from his face with his thumb, then guided it to Derek’s lips, watched him suck the finger into his mouth. He pressed a wet kiss to Derek’s mouth, and sighed when Derek’s arms wrapped around his back. 

Derek was just reaching down to Stiles’ fly when his omni rang out with a shrill noise.

“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me,” Stiles grunted into the side of Derek’s neck. 

Derek chuckled, “How much you wanna bet that’s Scott?”

Stiles sighed and pushed off of Derek’s chest, walked over to the nightstand to grab his omni. Sure enough, it was Scott calling him. Stiles pressed to accept the call.

“What is it, Scott? Kinda busy right now, man.”

“Where are you? We’re all at the ship and nobody’s there!” Scott said, panic in his voice. “Derek’s not here either. We’re all kind of freaking out, thought you got attacked or something?”

Stiles laughed; only Scott would panic first and then decide to call and see where he was. “Hey buddy, I’m still at the hotel. Derek’s here, too. We’re fine.”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. “Oh,” said Scott, eloquent as ever. “Ok, well, are we still leaving this morning? If you guys aren’t ready, we can just do some sightseeing or something. It’s not like we can leave without the ship’s pilot and commander.”

“Nah, man, we’re coming,” Stiles responded; he sniggered, because he still had the sense of humor of a teenager, and then frowned, because _he_ wasn’t coming any time soon, now that they had to head to the ship. 

Stiles signed off with Scott, and turned to look at Derek, still leaning against the wall. Derek looked wrecked. He had a small dopey smile on his face and was still completely nude. 

“You’re gonna have to put your clothes on, dude.” Stiles knew if he helped him they wouldn’t be leaving the room any time soon. 

Derek nodded, bent over to pull up his briefs and pants. “Don’t worry, Stiles, later tonight you can fuck me in my captain’s cabin.”

It was nice of Derek not to laugh as Stiles stumbled into the wall on his way to the bathroom.


	7. rudimentary creatures of blood and flesh

Stiles was so exhausted that he flung himself onto his bed in his quarters and fell asleep still fully dressed. Once they got back to the ship and departed from the Citadel, Stiles spent most of the day working with his co-pilot to fix the automatic flight system, so he barely even got to see Derek. He woke up in the middle of the night and found a note laying on the bed next to him.

_You looked so peaceful lying there I didn’t want to wake you. I took your shoes off for you. Come see me in the morning?_

_\- D._

Stiles sighed, contemplating if he should get up and go slip into Derek’s bed or just fall back asleep. Even if they didn’t fool around, it sounded really nice to be able to just actually sleep in the same bed together. His mind made up, Stiles rolled out of bed and pulled out a pair of sleeping pants and a worn t-shirt. He also grabbed a fresh set of uniform pants and jacket, so he could leave Derek’s room fully dressed, instead of in rumpled sleeping clothes.

The ship was quiet and dark at this time of night, almost a bit spooky. Stiles could put a name to almost every random sound he heard on the way up to the captain’s cabin. This ship sometimes felt more like it belonged to Stiles than anyone else, even more than Derek. He was genuinely happy when he was here, felt the most comfortable. How much of that had to do with his familiarity with the vessel or the fact that Derek was onboard, Stiles wasn’t certain.

He reached the top deck and exited the elevator. Pressing his hand to the touchpad to open the door, Stiles walked into Derek’s personal cabin, footsteps light. 

“Derek, you awake?” Stiles whispered.

“Stiles?” Derek responded, voice groggy.

Stiles walked through the small entryway and into the bedroom area, peeking around the wall to see Derek sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes.

“Hey,” Stiles said, and set his clothes down on the dresser. “I know you said to come see you in the morning, but I guess I couldn’t wait.”

Laughing, Derek pulled back the covers and patted the bed beside him. “Come on then. I guess it's technically morning.” Derek smiled as Stiles slid under the covers.

Stiles laid down, wrapped his arms around Derek’s waist, and pulled him down to lay against his side. “C’mere, I wanna cuddle with you.”

Derek settled in and rested his head on Stiles chest, and then wrapped his arm around his middle. Stiles placed a kiss on Derek’s head, soft hair under his lips.

“Goodnight, Stiles.”

“Night.”

~~~~

Stiles woke to Derek kissing his neck. Which, in any possible scenario for the first time waking up next to Derek, ranked pretty damn high. 

“Morning, you.” Stiles said, rubbing Derek’s back.

Derek hummed against Stiles’ skin, and a shiver ran down his spine. He grabbed a fistful of Derek’s hair and tugged him up for a kiss. They both had morning breath, but Stiles figured they cancelled each other’s out. Derek braced himself on the bed with his hands and dragged himself up so his body was lined up exactly with Stiles’. Letting out a moan, Stiles bucked his hips, rubbing his dick against Derek’s, feeling him just as hard as Stiles was. 

“I’m gonna ride you, ok?” Derek panted out, in between sloppy kisses.

“Fuck, yeah.” 

Derek reached out to the side and opened the drawer of the nightstand. Stiles wrapped an arm around his back, and helped Derek balance as he searched for what Stiles figured was lube and a condom. Derek found them pretty quickly, and shifted back on top of Stiles, smiling. He disappeared under the covers then, and Stiles felt his pants and boxers slide down his legs. Then a wet heat covered his cock, and he jerked his hips up into Derek’s mouth; Derek held his hips down and bobbed his head. Stiles watched the covers move, groaned as Derek sucked harder as he pulled off Stiles’ cock. He felt Derek roll the condom onto him, slick him up with lube.

Derek threw the covers back and crawled up towards Stiles, sweat gleaming on his forehead, hair matted down. Stiles laughed as he ran his fingers through the mess on Derek’s head. 

“Fuckin’ sexy, is what you are,” Stiles said, and cradled Derek’s face as he kissed him. Derek reached behind himself, rocked backwards onto his fingers, opening himself up. Stiles grabbed Derek’s ass and squeezed, spreading him open to ease his prep. He rutted up against Derek’s stomach, dragged wetness into the hair on Derek’s belly. 

Derek sat up, raised onto his knees. He grabbed Stiles’ cock, and sank down onto it in one swift movement. Stiles arched up, the breath forced out of him at the sudden feeling of heat and tightness around him. He shot his hands out, fumbled and grasped onto Derek’s hips; Derek lifted up and slammed down into Stiles’ lap, tossing his head back, neck stretched. Stiles pressed his fingertips hard into Derek’s flesh, trying to match his rhythm. He thrust his hips up, their skin making loud smacking noises as they connected. 

Derek groaned; he leaned forward and settled his weight on Stiles’ chest. Stiles wrapped his hands around Derek’s ass, dug his fingers in as he fucked him faster with the new angle. Bending his knees to plant his feet flat on the bed, Stiles lifted his hips and squeezed his ass as he hammered into Derek. Small whimpers left Derek’s mouth; his head hung between his shoulders as he stilled his own hips to allow Stiles to set the pace. 

“Oh shit, Derek, you feel so fucking amazing,” Stiles said, panting as he slowed down and lowered his hips to the bed, stomach muscles aching from holding himself up. Derek responded by rolling his hips and grinding down onto Stiles. Stiles cursed and bit his lip, focused on the slight pain to stop from coming too soon. Derek obviously had a different idea, as he shifted his hips forward and back, stroking himself on Stiles’ cock in the way that always did him in. 

“Touch yourself,” Stiles said, voice sounding strange, almost like a different person. “Let me see you.”

Derek fisted his cock, began short strokes at the head, thumb rubbing over the tip. Derek let out a stream of words, curses and noises, Stiles’ name. 

“That’s it, Derek. Want you to come on me.”

Curling forward, Derek’s hand stuttered, and he came on Stiles’ stomach and chest in long arcs, wet stripes painted over his skin. He pulsed around Stiles cock, and it sent him over the edge. Stiles bucked into Derek, squeezed his eyes shut as he came hard. He breathed heavily, opened his eyes to see Derek trailing his fingers through the wet mess on Stiles’ chest. 

“Kiss me,” Stiles said, reaching up to pull Derek down by the back of his neck. They kissed slowly, breathed into each other's mouths. 

“I don’t want to ruin the mood,” Derek said, “but we probably need to get up and get dressed.”

Stiles groaned. “Aww, man, no post-sex cuddles?”

“Tonight, I promise,” Derek replied, kissing Stiles’ forehead.

“No, dude, tonight we’re gonna be on Sur’kesh. Who knows where we’ll be.” Stiles could only imagine having to share a tent with Derek and try to keep his hands to himself. 

Derek smiled. “We’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

They managed to finally disentangle themselves and get out of bed. The journey to the locker room was not exactly comfortable, and Stiles wondered how much it would cost to install a private bathroom on Derek’s cabin.

~~~~

“Wow, it’s beautiful here!” Scott exclaimed, shading his eyes from the bright light emanating from Pranas, the star Sur’kesh orbited.

Stiles plucked the damp fabric of his shirt off his chest. “And fucking humid. Dude, we just got off the shuttle and I am completely drenched in sweat.” 

Derek turned to face Stiles and quirked his eyebrow.

“How are you not sweating, Derek?” Stiles asked. He wiped his brow with the back of his wrist. Derek looked like he was sitting in a cool air conditioned room instead of the jungles of Sur’kesh, the salarian homeworld. A person was not allowed to be that good-looking and not sweat. It was just the rules of the universe.

“So did we find out where this Deaton guy is supposed to be?” Erica asked from where she was standing next to Boyd. He had convinced Derek that Erica was actually pretty decent with an assault rifle, so Derek let her join them on their mission to find the salarian scientist. 

Stiles nodded, remembering the directions and advice his father gave him. “He’s probably either in the main research facility in the center of the capital town, or working at the public hospital.”

Derek turned and pointed towards a cluster of buildings to the north. “That’s the research facility, according to the map on my omni.” Derek looked down at the screen display on his wrist, flicked his fingers to scroll through. “The entrance should be about fifty meters from here. Any questions before we head out?”

Nobody responded. Stiles looked over their group. Scott and Allison were standing close to each other, eyes focused on Derek. Boyd and Erica were next to them, both loaded down with guns. Peter stood behind them, a bit in the distance, sniper held loosely in his hand. Lydia hovered near Stiles, a worried crease in her brow. Derek had been reluctant to bring her too, since she normally did not join them on their missions like this. She convinced him that she would be able to speak with Deaton as a fellow scientist, and Derek had eventually given in. 

Stiles looked back at Derek, nodded. “I think we’re ready to go, commander.”

“Let’s head out. I’ll take point; Boyd, Allison, and Peter will stay in the back with their snipers. Everyone else fall into line. I don’t expect any problems on our way to the facility, but I want to be prepared just in case. As always, let me do any talking. Got it?” Derek raised his eyebrows, then turned around to face the direction of the research facility where they’d hopefully find Alan Deaton, and started walking.

~~~~

Turns out the salarian scientist was quite easy to find. As the Senior Director of Operational Genomics, Alan Deaton had almost an entire floor to himself, along with a large team of scientists running experiments for him in labs that lined the hallway on the way to his office. 

Derek took Stiles and Lydia into Deaton’s office with him after the receptionist from the lobby below buzzed him through. The rest of the crew remained in the hallway, staring through the glass windows into the labs at the curious salarians. 

“Ah, Commander Hale, so nice to meet you,” Deaton said, waving them inside. He blinked the thin membranes over his eyes upwards, three times in rapid succession. Stiles thought he looked nervous.

Derek shook hands with the scientist and gestured towards Stiles and Lydia. “These are two members of my crew. Lieutenant Stilinski, my pilot; Dr. Martin, my head scientist.”

Deaton clutched his long fingers together, turned towards Lydia. “How lovely, a fellow scientist!” He turned back to face Derek, and asked, “To what do I owe this surprise visit, commander?”

Derek motioned to the couch and chairs to their right, and Deaton nodded. They all took a seat; Stiles and Lydia on the large beige couch, Derek and Deaton in the armchairs opposite one another. 

Derek cleared his throat. “How much do you know about the riot on Omega, doctor?”

“I know that it is probably the result of the widespread illegal use of Aconitum lycoctonum, or what you may know as Wolfsbane,” Deaton responded, blinking rapidly again. “Am I correct on that assumption?”

“That is what our sources tell us,” Derek replied. “And from what I understand is that you developed the original strain of this drug, but now it’s been mutated somewhat, and that version is the one that is causing the violent activity we assume led to the rioting.”

Deaton made a dry rasping noise; Stiles cringed, thinking it was some strange type of salarian laugh. “You are partially correct, Commander Hale. I was the one who developed Serum 2011, which was a genetic enhancement serum derived from Aconitum anthora, which is a species of what you may know as aconite. Our team produced this enhancement to aid soldiers during combat; give them additional strength, stamina, faster healing abilities. However, the serum somehow reached the general public, which it was never intended for. After a short while a different strain of Serum 2011 appeared on the market as well. This is what you are referring to as ‘Wolfsbane’, which as I stated before is a derivative of another species of aconite, Aconitum lycoctonum. This strain, in addition to the effects of the combat serum, has the unfortunate side effect of altering the physical form of the user as well.”

“You mean they turn into a werewolf,” Stiles interrupted.

Deaton turned towards Stiles, smiling. “That’s as good a word for it as any, I suppose. But yes, the user changes their physical form entirely; they sprout fur, grow claws and fangs, their bone structure changes to resemble that of a quadrupedal animal. Their mental abilities are also affected. The cases that I have studied have displayed severe aggression and a rabid-like madness. The few subjects we have been able to cure regain no memories of their time under the influence of the drug. If left unchecked, the user will die, quite violently I might add, in under 72 hours.”

Lydia jumped up from her seat. “You’ve come up with a cure?”

Derek shifted his gaze between Lydia and Deaton. “Is this true, Deaton?”

“It is what I have my entire team of scientists working on at the moment,” Deaton replied. “We have developed a few formulas that temporarily cure the subject, but unfortunately they still die within a few days. The best we have been able to do is to subdue to subject and prolong their lives slightly.”

“And you don’t know who developed this other strain of the drug?” Derek asked.

Deaton stood, a frown on his face. “I hope you are not implying it was someone on my team.”

Derek shrugged. “I have it on good authority that the salarians are the only ones intelligent enough to create a drug of this complexity.”

Deaton shook his head and sat down again. “While I suppose that is flattering, it was no one I know of. However, that does not mean it was not a rogue group of salarians wishing to enact revenge. In addition to developing a cure, we are also working on determining the source of the strain, but to no avail. It really is a shame the asari couldn’t keep their greedy hands to themselves. Then we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“So the salarians believe it was the asari that leaked the original serum to the general public?” Derek asked.

Deaton nodded. Derek sighed and crossed his arms. 

“I’m not going to ask for your sources on what information you already had, commander, because I am sure you would be unable to reveal them,” Deaton said. “But I wonder if that source was aware that the side effects of Wolfsbane can also be contracted by those who have not taken the drug?”

They sat there in shock, unable to answer the scientist at this new revelation.

Deaton smiled and said, “I guess not. The reason this riot has escalated to the level it has reached is because if a person under the influence of Wolfsbane bites someone, the victim develops the same symptoms. In essence, they pass it on, like a virus. Almost like something from a horror movie.”

Lydia stood up. “Dr. Deaton, I think we need to visit your lab.”


	8. in the darkest hour, there is always a way out

“And over here we have the group researching the origin of the mutated strain,” Deaton said. He had stopped in front of a group of about half a dozen salarians, each one with their faces pressed against a microscope. 

One of them raised his head. “Dr. Deaton, I think we may have found the signature. We are just confirming some of the data to make sure we’re correct.”

Derek stepped forward towards the researcher, and the salarian reared back. Derek stopped walking and demanded, “Who is it? Who made the strain?”

The researcher, Sordri, if the name on his lab coat was anything to go by, shook his head and looked over his shoulder at Deaton. 

Deaton waved his hand, “Go ahead, I assume you are fairly certain already.”

Sordri took a deep breath and stepped away from his microscope. The other researchers around the table looked up and stared at him. “Most scientists now include an organic signature on their work; the same way an artist would on a painting. That way no one else could in theory steal their work. The signature we have found on the mutated strain of Serum 2011 was this drawing.” 

The researcher tapped the screen of his omni, and a holograph appeared in the air in front of him. It was a gold colored symbol, what looked like a diamond shape with lines on either side.

“Cerberus,” Allison whispered. 

Stiles whipped his head around to stare at her. “You know what that is?”

She nodded. “I started hearing about them when I first joined C-Sec. They’re some kind of group of human mercenaries.”

“The word you’re looking for is terrorists, sweetheart.” Peter smirked, looking much too satisfied for his own good.

Scott jerked forward, and Stiles put a hand on his friend’s shoulder to calm him. 

Derek turned to speak to Deaton. “Once you confirm this, I’ll take this information back to my superiors. They may be able to tell us more about this group.”

“Can we see the scientists working on the cure?” Lydia asked. “Do you have anyone currently you’re treating? I’d love to see the effects first-hand.”

Deaton nodded and started walking away from the group of researchers. The crew followed him through the massive lab space, past table after table of salarians, all engaged in some sort of scientific activity. They ended up in a cleared area at the end of the room, with two cages in the middle. The cage on the right held a sleeping figure. It was covered in dark fur, and larger than a krogan. A soft looking tail wrapped around its hind legs; it snuffled quietly through a snout-like nose. 

The cage on the left held a similar figure, but this one was awake and pacing in circles. Drool hung from its mouth. Bright red eyes flicked between each of the crew members that had stopped in front of it. It locked eyes with Stiles and he shivered.

“These are our current test subjects,” said Deaton, gesturing to the cages. “The one on the right was given a trial cure a little over 24 hours ago. As you can see it has calmed the subject. The subject on the left was just administered the drug earlier this morning, but has not yet received the trial cure.”

“Wait,” Stiles interjected. “You’re giving people the drug? You said you haven’t figured out how to save them yet, and you’re just giving this to them knowing they’ll die?”

Deaton tilted his head, looked at the fur-covered figure pacing in its cage. “They’re part of our prison population. We’ve tried to take only the most violent offenders, one’s already sentenced to death.” 

“That doesn’t make it okay!” Stiles yelled, face heating up in anger. “It’s not like they have a choice!”

Deaton frowned. “We gave them a nice meal beforehand.”

Stiles threw up his hands, opened his mouth to continue. Derek grabbed his forearm gently, and Stiles turned to look at him. Shaking his head, Stiles deflated, knowing his argument was useless at this point.

“Sir?” A researcher came around the group to stand beside Deaton, carrying a syringe and a clear vial. “Trial 483 is ready for testing.”

“Good, good.” Deaton nodded. He pointed at the cage with the pacing subject. “He’s next. The group here is going to observe.”

Everyone stepped back and gave the researcher room to access the cage on the left. He stabbed the needle of the syringe into the vial and drew out the serum, pulling back slowly on the plunger. The researcher took a small object out of his pocket and put it up to his lips. He blew air through the object, which looked to Stiles like a kind of whistle, but no sound came out except a quiet rush of breath. The subject heard something though. It shrank down and howled, shoulders coming up as it sat back on its haunches. The salarian took the opportunity to stab the syringe into the flank of the caged test subject and pushed down on the plunger.

The subject growled and shook its head rapidly, drool flying everywhere. Its entire body trembled, skin and fur rippling in waves down its back. The creature collapsed onto the floor of the cage. The only movement was the rise and fall of its torso, chest and ribs expanding as it breathed. 

“Now, we wait,” said Deaton, and tapped his fingers on his omni.

The researcher that had injected the subject turned and left, nodding at Deaton as he passed.

Lydia nudged Stiles, and he looked at her, eyebrows raised in question. She mouthed _Let’s go look_ and began walking over to the cage with the newly sleeping subject. Stiles tripped slightly trying to catch up with her. 

“Careful,” Derek murmured, sidling up next to Stiles as he peered down at the furred creature. 

Stiles looked at Derek and winked. “Worried about me, honeybunch?” he whispered, and laughed when Derek rolled his eyes.

“It really does look like a werewolf, doesn’t it?” Lydia asked. She tilted her head. “Just like in the fairytales back home.”

“I think that was on purpose,” said Deaton, who had come to join them around the cage. “Some type of joke, a play on the derivative plant.”

“Kind of an asshole joke, if you ask me,” said Stiles. Derek nodded. 

Scott and Allison came over too, but Stiles could see Peter, Boyd, and Erica staying behind. 

Scott bent over the top of the cage, squinted his eyes. “How will we know if this trial worked? How long do we have to wait?”

“I’ll start taking some blood samples,” Deaton replied. “Even though it’s delaying their death until almost a full week now, we can still observe cellular deterioration much earlier than that.”

Deaton pulled a couple empty tubes and a butterfly needle from the front pocket of his lab coat. Leaning over and threading his arms between the bars of the cage, Deaton slid the needle through the fur of the subject and under the skin. He popped the seal on one of the tubes into the other end of the needle, and blood began collect in the empty tube.

The subject gave a small shiver, and Stiles flinched. A low growl came from its throat. Derek pressed his forearm against Stiles’ middle, pushing him back. Legs wobbling, the subject began to stand. Deaton yanked the needle out and blood spilled over the floor as his hand knocked the tube loose. 

“He shouldn’t be waking,” Deaton said.

Stiles watched the subject start to pace stiffly. “Well, he’s fucking awake now.”

“I think we should leave,” Scott said. Allison had her sniper out of its holster next to him. 

The subject opened its eyes. The irises were bright red, matching the blood on the floor that was streaked with paw prints. It slammed its shoulder against the side of the cage. The metal bars groaned, and the subject repeated the movement. 

“We’re leaving,” Derek shouted. “Now! Clear out your people, Deaton.”

Deaton stood rooted to the spot, mouth hung open. Lydia grabbed his coat sleeve and tugged, tried to get him to move. The subject hit the bars with its massive shoulder again, and the metal bent outwards. 

“Shit, shitshitshit, go!” Stiles yelled. Deaton still refused to move, and Lydia had given up on him to join Stiles and Derek on the far side of the room.

The cage exploded as the metal bars were finally weakened enough. Deaton fell onto his back, and the furred subject leapt onto his chest. It bit down savagely on his neck. Blood and spit flew everywhere. Stiles heard shouts and cries from around the room, followed by a loud gunshot. The subject fell off Deaton’s body, limp on its side, still.

Allison holstered her sniper. She was breathing hard, but looked calm enough. Scott rushed over to Deaton to examine his wound. He helped him up from the floor and held a hand against the gushing bite. 

“He’s going to turn into one too,” Lydia whispered. “Isn’t he?” She was staring at Stiles and Derek, eyes wide and shiny.

Stiles nodded. Derek said, “I think so.”

“What do we do?” she asked.

Stiles knew that Deaton would change soon, and he needed to be taken out in order for everyone else to remain safe. “We have to kill him,” Stiles whispered. “Unless we can get one of the researchers back over here quick enough to administer another trial cure?” He craned his neck around to look behind him, trying to see if any of the researchers had come running at the sound of the chaos. There weren't any to be found. 

“We don't have time for that,” Derek replied, voice strained. “We have no idea how fast this is gonna happen.” Derek slowly pulled his pistol from the holster on his thigh and walked over to Scott and Deaton. 

“Deaton,” Derek said, voice raised. “Turn around.”

Scott protested as he saw the gun in Derek’s hand. Stiles gasped in shock as he saw a red glint flash in Deaton's eyes. The change was coming, and it was coming fast. They had to act now. 

Stiles gathered his biotic power. Felt it crawl through his nerves, collect at his fingertips.

Fur sprouted through Deaton’s skin in patches. A deep growl ripped through his lips. Deaton jumped forward, lashed out at Derek with the claws forming at his fingertips. Derek flew sideways, just out of reach as Stiles directed him to safety, waved his arm towards the wall. 

Allison shot again, but Deaton moved out of the way, and the bullet only pierced his lower leg. Fur had completely covered him now, and his nose and jaw were lengthening. He opened his mouth and roared. The glass in the roomed rattled; vials fell off countertops, windows shook in their metal frames. 

Derek was running towards Deaton, pistol flung aside as he grabbed his assault rifle from his back holster. Scott held up his hands and looked frantically between Deaton and Derek.

Stiles panicked and lifted his arm to move Scott out of the way, but he was too slow.

“Derek, no!” Scott shouted. “Not yet, we can help -” He was cut off as Deaton attacked him, tore a chunk of flesh out of Scott’s shoulder. 

Scott howled in pain. Allison ran to him, catching up just as Derek stumbled to a halt behind the rabid-like creature. In one swift motion, Derek kicked Deaton off of Scott’s struggling form, and Allison put a bullet into the back of Deaton’s skull. 

Stiles’ throat locked up. It was only seconds before Deaton had started to turn into that vicious creature, and the same would happen to Scott. He couldn’t think about that now, just had to get Derek and Allison away as quickly as he could. Stiles ran towards them, saw the horror on Allison’s face as she came to the same conclusion. 

Lydia screamed nearby, and Stiles spared a glance over his shoulder to see her dragging another salarian over to them. It was the same researcher from before, the one who administered the trial cure to the subject that attacked Deaton. He was reaching in his pocket as he neared Scott, and slid to his knees in front of him. Faster than Stiles would have thought was possible, the researcher filled an empty syringe from a familiar vial, and stabbed it into Scott’s leg.

Scott shuddered and closed his eyes.

~~~~

Stiles tossed the rest of his dinner in the trash. He had next to no appetite, but had tried to eat something. He knew the next couple of days were going to be exhausting, and he needed all of the energy he could get. But the sick twist taking shape in his gut, over thoughts of Scott, his friend, his brother, caged and tranquilized back in the lab on Sur’kesh, made it hard to get any food down. 

They had left Scott with the salarian researchers while they flew back to Omega to meet up with Aria. If anyone knew how to contact this Cerberus group, it would be her. Then they would find them, and do whatever it took to extract the cure, a _real_ cure, from them. The salarian that had injected Scott with the trial cure said the newest formulation should keep him alive for a little over a week. 

Leaving the empty mess hall, Stiles paced the hallway in front of the elevator. He was fidgety. Almost as bad as he was when he was a teenager. He had to take so much medication back then, he was always flitting around like a bug, annoying his poor father and stressing him out. Stiles didn’t normally have issues with it now that he was older, but extreme stress tended to bring it back. Usually if he focused on something, anything else but what was bothering him, he could control it. Often times he would run, or play chess, or video games. 

“Stiles?” Derek called out, and Stiles turned around. Derek walked over to Stiles and pulled him into a tight hug. “I know it's a stupid question, but how are you?”

“I don't know what to do,” Stiles murmured as he wrapped his arms around Derek. He buried his face in Derek's neck and breathed in the smell of him, sweat and detergent. 

“I just found Allison down in engineering,” Derek said as he rubbed Stiles' back. “She was sitting down there by herself in a corner, staring off into space. I finally convinced her to get up and she's in the observation deck with Lydia now.”

Stiles thought of how Allison must feel, wondered if it was as empty and sick as he felt. Neither of them had been able to save Scott from being attacked by Deaton, and it was eating Stiles up inside. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut as tears began to well up.

“I think we should join them,” Derek said. “Spend some time together, just the four of us. None of us should be alone right now, especially you and Allison.”

Stiles drew back from their embrace and wiped the tears off his cheeks. “Yeah, ok. That's probably a good idea.”

They walked over to the port side of the ship, and entered the observation deck. The room was small, and had a couple couches and a table, a small kitchen with a bar, and an entertainment center. The thing that caught the eye as you walked into the room though, was the massive window displaying the surrounding galaxy in all its glory. As Stiles shuffled into the room he stopped for a moment, mesmerized as always by the beauty of the stars and planets.

Lydia and Allison were sitting on one of the couches, Allison's head tucked in Lydia's lap. Lydia stroked Allison's hair as she sipped a cocktail. She smiled at Stiles as he came into the room, beckoned him over to sit at her other side. He turned to look at Derek, who patted him gently on the back before heading over to the bar. Stiles walked over to the couch and sank down into the cushions next to Lydia. She kissed him lightly on his forehead.

“I think we should watch a movie,” Lydia announced. She drained the remainder of her drink and set the empty glass on the table in front of her. Allison shifted in Lydia's lap, and sat up, peering owlishly at Stiles. 

“Stiles?” Allison asked, her voice hazy with sleep. He waved at her and she waved in return before settling back in Lydia's lap.

“I gave her some meds,” said Lydia. “She was not doing well before. And these are my meds.” She pointed to her empty drink on the table. 

Derek came over with two glasses, and handed one to Stiles as he sat down next to him. 

Stiles thanked Derek and brought the glass to his lips. He sipped the cocktail, some sort of gin mixture, then tipped the glass back and swallowed it all. 

“Easy there,” Derek said as he took the glass from Stiles. 

“Can I have another, please?” Stiles asked.

Lydia made a noise of protest, and Derek gave him a reproachful look. 

Stiles heaved a sigh, “Dude, it's just a couple of drinks, I'll be fine. I just need to numb my brain, ok?”

Derek stood up and went back to the bar.

Lydia leaned over and whispered in Stiles' ear, “So, do I sense something going on between you two?”

Stiles smiled faintly, but it quickly vanished. “Yeah, but, now's not a great time to talk about it, ya know?”

“I know, sweetie,” she replied, patting him on the thigh. “I'm just glad you have someone to take care of you right now. You can give me all the sordid details later.” Lydia winked at him.

Derek came back with another full glass and Stiles took it gingerly from him, trying not to spill it onto his lap. 

“So what about that movie?” Stiles asked. “Maybe a comedy or something silly?” He didn't think he could deal with anything serious right now.

Lydia picked up a remote lying on the table and flicked the TV on. “There's that one that came out earlier this year, with that drell actor, what's-his-name? The one where he pretends to be a C-Sec officer.”

Derek asked, “ _Oh officer, my officer_?”

“That's it,” Lydia said. She moved through the menus on the screen until she found the movie rental section, and started searching for the movie.

Derek took Stiles' hand and squeezed. Stiles looked over at Derek and gave him a small smile. This did feel better, being surrounded by his friends, knowing he was safe and comfortable, at least for a little while. Stiles took a sip from his drink and set it down on the table. He decided he should go a bit slower with this one than his last. 

Lydia found the movie and pressed play; she set the remote down on the table and settled back into the cushions. Her fingers played in Allison's hair again, and Stiles thought he heard Allison snoring softly. As the opening credits came on the screen, Stiles turned to Derek, watching him sip his own drink. Derek looked at him with a fond expression on his face. Leaning over, he placed a wet kiss on Stiles' cheek.

“Ugh, wet,” Stiles complained, laughing softly. He wiped his cheek, fingers coming away damp with Derek's cocktail and spit.

“You liked it,” Derek said, a teasing note in his voice. Derek kissed him on the lips this time, and Stiles relaxed into him. 

Lydia cleared her throat. “Boys, you're going to miss the movie.”

Derek chuckled and broke away from the kiss. Stiles sighed and nudged Lydia's shoulder with his own. 

The movie ended up being pretty funny, and enough of a distraction that Stiles actually started to enjoy himself. Between that and the slight buzz from the alcohol, he was able to clear his mind and forget for a while about Scott and what happened on Sur'kesh. By the time the credits were rolling, Lydia had fallen asleep too, head titled back, her mouth slightly open.

Stiles tucked his feet under him and shifted so he faced Derek. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles and pulled Stiles in to rest his head on his chest, hand on the back of Stiles' neck. Stiles relaxed against Derek, and he brought his hands up to Derek's chest, fingers tracing circles. 

He must have started to fall asleep himself, because a noise from the TV startled him. Stiles sat up and rubbed his eyes, feeling groggy. Derek smiled at him.

“Feeling ok?” Derek asked.

“Yeah,” Stiles said. “I think I fell asleep, though.”

“It's ok,” Derek said. “You need to be able to sleep, although it's probably better if it's in your bed.”

Stiles nodded. “Will you stay the night with me?” He didn't want to be alone, but he didn't want sex either. He just needed to have Derek near him.

“Of course,” Derek responded. “Will you help me make sure they get back to their rooms ok?” Derek nodded his head towards Lydia and Allison.

“Sure,” Stiles said. He got up off the couch, stretching his tight muscles. Derek gathered the empty glasses off the table and brought them to the kitchen.

Stiles bent down and shook Lydia's shoulder gently. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

She groaned and opened her eyes. “What?”

“We gotta get you two to bed,” Stiles said. “You don't want to sleep on the couch.”

Lydia nodded, pliant with sleep. She woke Allison up and they both stood up slowly. Stiles and Derek led them out of the observation deck and followed them to Lydia's room. Lydia thanked Stiles and Derek as she shut the door. Stiles could see Allison flop down onto the bed.

Stiles took Derek's hand, and they turned the corner to the hallway where Stiles' room was. After they got in his room, they both stripped down to their briefs and climbed in bed. Stiles wrapped himself around Derek, trying to absorb some of Derek's warmth. He was asleep within minutes.


	9. if i must tear you apart, i will

Omega looked like a warzone. After the crew exited the ship and entered the atrium, they came to a halt, stood around in horror as they saw bodies littering the open space. Blood and gore covered almost every inch of the ground, screams echoed from every alleyway. The stench of decay and waste was strong, and Stiles sneezed several times in a row.

“Dude, we weren’t gone that long,” Stiles said, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. 

Derek stepped gingerly over the corpses of two vorcha. “We need to find Aria, fast.”

They checked Aria's room in Afterlife, but it was empty. The inside of the club was demolished; the bar was split into chunks, and the surrounding tables and chairs lay in shattered pieces. It was like a bomb went off. None of the lights or automatic doors worked either. Erica cried out in surprise as they walked by one of the side rooms, and she disappeared inside of it. She emerged carrying a small box, her hand covered in blood. Derek didn’t question her when she handed it over, mumbling something to him that Stiles couldn’t hear.

Exiting the club, Stiles turned around to get his bearings, and found that Peter was no longer with them. He opened his mouth to let Derek know, but Derek had already headed off towards one of the residential districts. Stiles started jogging, trying to catch up. He looked over at Allison and gave her a small smile. She nodded to him. Her eyes had heavy dark circles underneath. Stiles wondered if the drugs Lydia gave her last night wore off, if she slept as fitfully as he did. 

Stiles reached Derek’s side and said, “Peter took off.”

Derek gave Stiles a sharp look. “What?”

“He’s gone, man. Haven’t seen him since before we went inside the club,” Stiles said.

Derek clenched his jaw. Stiles worried this was going to be another repeat of Peter Hale screwing them over again. Story of Derek’s life. Stiles’ gut ached at the thought. Derek didn’t deserve this. Scott didn’t deserve this. None of them did.

“Where are we headed?” Stiles asked. “Is it something to do with that box Erica gave you?”

Derek stepped around what looked like a pile of severed limbs in the middle of the alleyway, and Stiles heard Lydia gagging behind him. 

Derek said, “Apparently Aria has a hideout in the Kenzo district. Erica had to punch through a wall to get the key and password Aria kept hidden for emergencies.”

“Do you think she’s still alive?” Stiles asked.

“I sure fucking hope so,” Derek responded. 

~~~~

Using the key and passcode Erica grabbed from Afterlife, Derek opened the door to Aria’s hideout. The building was set back from the main thoroughfare, hidden in a dark cul-de-sac. 

Derek entered first, Stiles right behind him with the rest of the crew crowding in afterwards. Stiles ran into Derek’s back with a surprised exhale.

“Wha -?” Stiles started, then peered around Derek to see why he had stopped.

Aria was floating in the air, a thin chain around her neck. Metal cuffs bracketed her wrists and ankles, and more thin silver chains ran from the cuffs to a small box on the ground. Electric currents ran from the box to the cuffs and collar, and the asari shook and trembled as each wave hit her body. Stiles recognized the device as one used to prevent a biotic from using their powers. The constant electric charge running through the body made it impossible for the user to tap into their own system.

“I was beginning to think you’d never show up.” A feminine voice floated out from a room to their right, and Stiles watched a human female walk towards them, a wide, predatory smile on her pretty face.

“Kate?” Derek gasped at the same time Allison exclaimed, “Aunt Kate!” 

Derek backed up until he was pressed against Stiles' chest. Stiles put his hand on Derek’s shoulder, feeling Derek's muscles tense up. Stiles was unsure how Derek knew Allison's aunt, and why she was involved here. He guessed she was the one who had strung Aria up in that contraption.

Crossing her arms, Kate tilted her head and looked at Stiles. “He’s a cutie pie, isn’t he? I bet the two of you have a lot of fun.” Kate winked at Derek at the last statement.

Stiles stepped forward, putting himself in between Kate and Derek. “I don’t know why you're here, but you need to release Aria from those restraints immediately. You’re interfering with an official Alliance mission.”

“I’d rather not,” Kate responded. “She was getting too close to figuring out our plans, and the last thing I need is some street trash asari bitch ruining the biggest chance the human race has to gain a seat on the Council.”

“What are you talking about?” Derek asked, his voice rough and strained. 

“All of this would have been so much easier if Hackett hadn’t chosen you to lead this mission, my dear nephew.” Peter appeared from behind Kate, looking smug.

Stiles heard Allison and Boyd pulling their guns out of their holsters behind him.

Kate rolled her eyes and spun around to face Peter. “You always have to make an entrance, don’t you?”

“Tell me what’s going on, Peter,” Derek snarled. “And why is she here?”

“Kate, why _are_ you here?” Allison exclaimed. “What's going on?” Her face was flushed and her eyes were wild with panic. 

Peter let out a heavy sigh. He spread his hands out before him and said, “I guess I should let you all in on our little secret. I honestly didn’t want to involve you in this, I asked General Argent not to.”

“My grandfather?” Allison asked. “What the fuck is going on here?” She gripped her gun tightly, her knuckles white with pressure.

Derek gave her a look, and she quieted, holstering her weapon.

Peter smiled. “Yes, Allison, your grandfather. I’ve been what you might call an undercover agent for Gerard for quite some time now. The little shitshow on Canrum a few years ago? He was trying to get me to recruit that rebel krogan to help out with our plans. Long story short, the humans want a seat on the Citadel Council, and the only way we'll be able to do that is by creating strife between the Council's two oldest founding races. The asari and the salarians.”

Lydia gasped, and Stiles turned around to see her shake her head at him, red curls bouncing.

“Yet again, our little redheaded scientist figures everything out before the rest of you,” Peter said, a crooked smile on his face. “We heard about this drug that they had developed together, and thought we could use it to our advantage, create a little chaos. Fortunately, even though you idiots ruined my chance at recruiting that rebel krogan on Canrum, I was able to find him about a year later. It wasn't too much of a stretch to assume the group he was working for wanted the krogans back on the Citadel too. So we struck a deal. He and his rebel group would help create a rift between the two Council races by fucking with this new drug, and I would supply the means and credits to do so. Via the Alliance military, of course.”

Things started to click into place now for Stiles. Thousands of years ago, the Citadel Council, the governing body of the Citadel, and the ultimate authority of Citadel space, was founded by the asari and salarians. The krogans were brought in as the soldiers for the Council, but that prestigious title was short-lived, and after the Krogan Rebellions and the salarian-developed genophage, the krogans were replaced as the favored sons by the turians, who were given the third and final seat on the Council. It would make sense that the krogans would try and find their way back to the Council's favor at some point. 

The humans, though; the humans were a different sort entirely. The human race was tragically late to the party when it came to interstellar travel. By the time they found out that the rest of the universe was already colonizing Citadel space, it was too late for the humans to make any major impact on government or military. Even though the Council granted humanity an embassy on the Citadel, they had little to no say when it came to decisions made by the Council. The humans decided to form their own military, the Systems Alliance. The Spectres, who acted as undercover agents for the Council, had only just started to accept humans into their ranks. 

“What does all of this have to do with Kate and that, what was it called, Allison?” Stiles asked, turning to face her. “Cerberus, right? The terrorist group?”

Kate laughed, threw her head back, exposing her long neck. “Oh sweetie, we aren't terrorists. We're freedom fighters. And all we're trying to do is get humanity into its rightful place among the other Citadel races. And that place is on the Council.”

“So you what, took this drug that the salarians and asari made, twisted it into that horrible version that's out there now, and placed the blame on the salarians?” Lydia had stepped in front of Stiles and was yelling at Kate, hands on her hips. “Tried to create a war between the two of them so they'd tear apart at the seams and the humans and krogans could step forward and take over the Council?”

Peter and Kate shared a look. 

“Precisely,” Peter replied. “And after this disastrous turn on Omega, where the Council did nothing at all to stop it, how are the people going to react? Do you think they'll just accept the destruction the asari and salarians have caused, when they couldn't even be bothered to lift a finger to clean up their own mess?”

“But this isn't their mess!” Stiles exclaimed. He couldn't believe they had gotten involved in this. Most humans wanted more exposure in Citadel space, wanted their voices heard. But not like this. Stiles signed up with the Alliance military to fight for peace, not war. “We can't let you walk out of here. We won't let you get away with this.”

Stiles walked over to the machine pumping electricity into Aria, but Kate caught him by the arm as he bent down, yanking him off balance so he landed hard on his ass. Pain flared in his back as she dug the heel of her boot into his neck. Stiles saw Derek launch himself at her, and they crashed into the wall. Stiles scrambled to his feet, coughing, and looked up to see Peter fighting Boyd and Erica. Lydia and Allison were kneeling next to Stiles, working on shutting down the machine that held Aria captive. 

Using his biotic power, Stiles created a barrier around himself. He couldn't risk another attack again. Stiles checked on Derek and saw him and Kate fighting. Derek seemed to be holding his own, but Stiles' stomach twisted in worry. He didn't know how strong Kate was, or how good a fighter she could be, but Stiles didn't know what he'd do if Derek was badly hurt. They just had to stop Kate and Peter and get Aria to safety, so Stiles had to focus. Since Allison and Lydia were working on freeing Aria, Stiles decided to go after Peter. Stiles ran towards him to find Boyd knocked unconscious and Erica still fighting, blood running down her face. Fearful for Erica's safety, Stiles reached out and sent a blast of biotic energy towards Peter. Unfortunately, Stiles wasn't quick enough, and before he got hit with the blast, Peter backhanded Erica, and she collapsed. Stiles spared Erica a quick glance to see that she was still breathing before Peter scrambled up from the floor and rushed towards Stiles, slamming into him and knocking the breath out of him. Gasping, pain lighting up in his ribs, Stiles wrapped his arms around Peter, and flipped them over until he was straddling Peter's chest. Stiles started chocking Peter, fingers digging into the soft flesh of his neck, when a sharp buzzing pain ripped through his stomach. He fell off Peter, and his limbs shook in violent spasms, teeth chattering against each other. Peter stood up, grinning down at Stiles as he put his portable electric stun gun back in its holster on his belt. Stiles was fuming, angry that Peter had taken him out so quickly, and with such a cheap tactic.

Stiles could barely move, but he could see Lydia shielding her and Allison with her own biotic barrier out of the corner of his eye. A large dark shape flew across Stiles' vision, and Derek landed heavily on top of him. The remaining electrical charge in Stiles transferred over to Derek as their skin made contact, and Derek grunted in pain as his body shook where it lay half on top of Stiles. Relief flooded Stiles knowing that even if Derek was hurt, he was still alive. Stiles grasped Derek's arm, using the little strength he had to try and comfort Derek, help him through the shocks of pain. “Hey, I'm here,” Stiles whispered. “You're gonna be ok.” Derek grunted in response.

“This one is too much trouble,” Stiles heard Kate remark from the other side of the room, followed by a loud gunshot. Lydia and Allison cried out in protest, making Stiles think that Kate must have killed Aria. A sick feeling knotted inside him; if Aria was dead, how would they ever figure out the cure for Scott? 

“What the fuck was that?” Peter exclaimed. “She was our bargaining chip, you stupid bitch!”

“Oh, I'm the stupid bitch?” Kate responded. “You're the fucking idiot who was wandering around playing sidekick with your nephew, while you were supposed to be making sure everything went to shit here on Omega.”

Stiles couldn't believe it, these two stopping to argue in the middle of a fight like some awful movie villains. Maybe there was some way they could use this to their advantage; if Stiles could get Derek off the floor, perhaps they could surprise Peter and Kate, somehow get the information on the cure out of them. 

Peter scoffed. “My nephew, your ex, you mean? Yeah, I know about that. And I know what you did to him. I know what you did to our family. The fire. And the only reason I agreed to work with you is because I knew that once we were done Gerard would be so busy setting up the new Council he wouldn't have time to chase me down once I'd killed you.”

Derek let out a pained sounding whine, and rolled off Stiles' chest. Stiles laid there in shock. Derek used to be with Kate? When? And if what Peter said was true, did she do something that caused the fire that killed most of Derek's family?

Derek was struggling to get up, but Stiles reached out and grabbed his arm. The electrical shocks were slowing down, only coming every minute or so now. Stiles could move again, but it was painful. If he could gather up enough strength that he could tap back into his biotic powers, he could possibly take out both Peter and Kate while they were distracted. He didn't want Derek to charge back in and get himself hurt before he could try.

“Yes, but does he know about Laura?” Kate asked, voice syrupy sweet.

Derek tensed up, lurched forward again, and Stiles tightened his grip on him, whispered, “Wait.”

“Laura had found out what we were doing, and it was so early on in the planning stage,” Peter replied, with what sounded like a hint of remorse in his voice. “She was going to ruin everything. I did what I had to do.”

Stiles could feel his powers start to tingle through his veins again, and he raised up to a sitting position. He leaned over to Derek, knew he had almost no time to do this since Kate and Peter had surely seen them moving around. He said quietly into Derek's ear, “I've got an idea, but I need you to tell me: This Kate woman, you have a past, and I don't really care about that, but I need to know if you care that I kill her.”

“Do it,” Derek grunted, and that was enough for Stiles. He rolled over to his knees, and stumbled forward, rushing towards Kate. As she reached for her gun, Stiles created a new barrier around himself, then reached deep inside, pulling out as much power as he could. He drove his shoulder into her stomach as he collided with her, knocking her to the floor. When they landed, painful shocks of biotic energy exploded out of him like a bomb, scraping through every nerve. Stiles' power sucked in the air around them, imploding inwards like a dying star. His vision went white and his ears rang, and Kate's body disappeared beneath him.

Lydia screamed, and Derek rushed over to where Stiles lay unmoving.

“Stiles!” Derek shouted, and he slid onto the floor next to him. Stiles' limbs felt wooden, drained of energy from the blast, but he was in one piece. Kate, however, was gone. Stiles asked, just to make sure.

“She's gone, Stiles,” Derek responded. “I don't know what you did, but she's gone.” Derek's voice shook as he helped Stiles up from the floor, wrapping him in his arms as soon as he was standing. 

“Ah, well, I guess we didn't need her assistance anymore,” Peter remarked from behind them. Stiles let out a heavy sigh, wondered what Derek would do with his uncle now that he knew Peter had killed his sister. Whatever he decided was up to him, and Stiles would support whatever choice Derek made. But if you asked Stiles, that asshole needed to die. 

“How do we fix Scott?” Derek asked. “If you tell me that, if you help him, then I'll let you go.”

Peter held up his hands, lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “That I can do.” Peter flicked his fingers over his omni for a few seconds, then Derek's beeped in return. Derek looked down at the screen, passed his fingers over the menus, and let out a deep breath.

“Stiles, Lydia, I'm sending this over to you. Make sure it gets to the salarians, so they can cure Scott and create an antidote for the others affected.” Derek faced Stiles and gave him a small smile, kissed him on the forehead. 

Derek turned around and walked over to Peter. Peter held out his arms. “We have a lot to talk about, Derek, but I promise you, everything I did was for a rea -” Derek snapped Peter's neck, and Peter collapsed to the ground.


	10. when i feel that way, i reach for you

“Ohmigawd, Scott,” Stiles complained, “don't take all of the potatoes.”

Scott grinned as he piled even more mashed potatoes onto his plate and Allison giggled into her napkin.

Stiles scoffed. “Don't encourage him, Allison!”

“They're my mom's potatoes,” Scott said, scooping a huge helping onto his fork. “I'll eat as many as I want.”

Derek patted Stiles on the knee as Stiles pouted, mourning the loss of his favorite side dish. 

“I'll make an extra bowl just for you next time, Stiles,” Melissa McCall said, smiling at Stiles. 

They were all at Stiles' dad's house for dinner, which was quickly becoming a Sunday night tradition since most of the crew had moved to the Citadel. After the fight with Peter and Kate on Omega, Derek went straight to the Council to explain what happened, and the crew was promptly discharged from the Alliance. The Council, on the other hand, liked the way they handled their mission, and instated Derek as a Spectre, giving him a brand new ship and letting him have his old crew back. One of the perks of working directly for the Council was getting swanky new digs on the Citadel.

“And what about me?” Stiles' dad asked, a cheeky grin on his face as he turned to Scott's mom.

Melissa blushed as she replied, “You know I'll make you whatever you want.”

Scott shot Stiles a smirk; they were pretty sure their parents were dating, and in their minds it was only a short amount of time before they were actually real brothers. 

Lydia cleared her throat. “I heard from Erica earlier today. She and Boyd have been setting up a makeshift police force on Omega to help Aria out while she recovers.”

Stiles was happy to hear that. Aria luckily hadn't been killed during their fight, but was still pretty seriously injured, and needed help cleaning up the mess left by the riot. Erica took it upon herself to step up to the plate and take over in the interim, and Boyd moved out there to assist.

They finished dinner and Stiles and Scott were relegated to dish washing duty as usual, while the others migrated to the living room to watch TV. By the time the final pot was soaking in the sink, Scott was lying on the ground covered in soap suds with Stiles bent over above him, chocking with laughter. 

Stiles left the kitchen after helping Scott dry off, and found Derek dozing on the couch. 

“Rise and shine,” Stiles said, poking Derek in the shoulder. “Wanna head home?” 

Derek nodded groggily and sat up. They waved goodbye to everyone and left for their apartment.

Once they got home, they sprawled out on the couch, Stiles' feet in Derek's lap. Derek massaged his thumbs into the arches of Stiles' feet. When Stiles let out his third loud moan as Derek hit just the perfect spot, Derek finally had enough and yanked on Stiles' feet, sliding him down the couch and climbing over him. Stiles clung onto Derek's back, wrapped his legs around him as he bucked his hips up. Derek kissed him, bit his lips until they stung, dipped his tongue inside Stiles' mouth. 

Derek leaned back and said, “So, I’ve been thinking…”

“What have you been thinking about?” Stiles asked, knowing the answer was probably going to be something naughty. 

“Have you ever used your biotic powers in… non-combat situations?”

A rush of air forced itself from Stiles' mouth, and he reared back to see Derek’s face, which was now sporting a healthy red flush.

“Do you mean for sexy times, Derek?” Stiles laughed softly. “I’m pretty sure you’re referring to sexy times with my biotics, aren’t you?”

Eyes closed, Derek replied, “Yes, that’s what I’m talking about, Stiles.”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t.” Stiles smirked. Thought about holding Derek up with his powers at waist height so he could thrust deeply into him, hands squeezing his ass. 

Derek’s eyes flew open. “I want you to restrain me. Could you do that? Do you like that?”

Stiles' eyes widened. “Shit. Yes. Yes, I fucking like that. I can totally do that.”

“Good.” Derek climbed off Stiles and held out his hands. Stiles grabbed on and Derek pulled him up, then dragged him to the bedroom. Once inside, Derek backed up from Stiles, a smirk on his face. Derek lifted his shirt and tossed it aside. His pants and briefs followed quickly after. Derek stood naked in front of Stiles, cock hard and curved up towards his belly. Stiles rushed to remove his own clothes, barely saving himself from tripping in his haste to finish.

Stiles swept his eyes over Derek, feet to head, wondering how exactly he wanted to do this. “We need a word, if you want me to release you. It shouldn’t hurt or anything, just if you want to get free.”

“Ok, what word?” Derek asked.

“Dunno, um, banana?”

“Banana?”

“Yea, man, just something you wouldn’t normally say during sex,” Stiles teased. “If you don’t like it, pick something else.”

“Banana’s fine,” Derek rolled his eyes. 

“Good,” Stiles said and kissed Derek.

Stiles grabbed Derek by the hips, and turned him around to face the opposite way. Power building in his nerves, Stiles focused on Derek’s wrists, guided them above his head. Imagined locking them together. Derek gasped, muscles bunched in his shoulders. Stiles slipped his foot between Derek’s ankles, kicked one gently to the side. Derek adjusted his stance wider. 

Kneeling on the floor behind him, Stiles dragged his fingers downwards and up the backs of Derek’s thighs. He dug the tips of his fingers into the soft flesh of Derek’s ass, spread him open. Stiles blew air on the puckered skin of Derek’s hole, heard him whimper above him in response. He rubbed his thumbs gently along the sensitive skin. Stiles leaned forward and dragged the flat of his tongue up through the cleft of Derek’s ass. Derek gasped out a curse. Stiles pressed his face closer and licked him again, repeated it over and over until Derek’s thighs started to shake. Stiles dipped the tip of his tongue inside of Derek, swirled it around the rim. Derek got louder and louder as Stiles continued. Incoherent words and moans spilled out of his mouth as Stiles fucked him with his tongue, scraped his teeth on his skin. 

Stiles leaned back and spit, aiming for Derek’s hole. Watched it drip down over the twitching ring of muscle. Stiles slid his index finger inside of Derek, and smiled as it went in easy, muscles relaxed from the work his mouth just did. He added a second finger, and Derek thrust back against him, grinded himself on Stiles’ hand. Stiles squeezed Derek’s left ass cheek, then laid a light smack on it. Derek groaned, shoved himself harder onto Stiles fingers. Stiles smacked him again, harder this time, and Derek rolled his hips. The motion brushed Stiles’ fingers against Derek’s prostate, and Derek yelled.

“Stiles,” Derek gasped out. “I need you to stop, unless you want me to come right now.”

“M’k,” Stiles answered, laid a chaste kiss on Derek’s hip, and slid his fingers out. He stood behind Derek, wrapped his arms around his chest.

“I’m gonna lift you up into the air now,” Stiles said, placed another kiss on Derek’s shoulder. “You’ll be on your back, with your head towards me, and it will just feel like you’re lying down on a flat surface, ok?”

Derek nodded his head hanging between his shoulders.

Stiles backed up, and lifted Derek slowly upwards, using his biotic power. He had to concentrate more than he normally did, since he usually put so much strength into his lifts during a fight, and here he needed much more control. Stiles tilted Derek’s body until he was floating flat on his back in the air, waist high with Stiles. He also lowered his bound wrists so they lay on his stomach.

Cupping Derek’s jaw, Stiles tilted his head back. He rubbed a thumb along Derek’s lower lip, pressed until Derek opened his mouth. Stiles held his dick and looked Derek in the eyes, silently asking permission. Derek nodded, stuck out his tongue. Stiles groaned, and slid himself inside Derek’s mouth. 

Stiles pulled out and said, “Raise your arms up if you need me to stop, or slow down, ok?”

“I will.”

Stiles fucked Derek’s mouth, slowly and methodically, careful not to choke him. He threw his head back as Derek swallowed around him, groaned out his name. Stiles went as deep as he could go, eyes on Derek’s hands in case he made any slight movement, and held himself there. He wrapped one hand lightly around Derek’s neck, rubbed his fingers over the delicate skin. Stiles started to shake with the need to move, and wondered how long Derek would let him stay like this. Derek’s hands twitched, and Stiles pulled out as fast as he could. 

Squatting down, Stiles kissed Derek’s reddened wet lips. Whispered praise and thank yous. 

“Can I fuck you?” Stiles asked.

Derek responded, “Please”, sounding wrecked.

Stiles flipped Derek over until he was floating mid-air on his stomach and unbound his wrists. He bent Derek’s legs at the knees and walked around behind him. Lifting his arms behind his back, Stiles bound Derek’s wrists again. He watched the muscles in Derek’s back ripple at the new position of his arms. Stiles stepped between Derek’s legs and placed his hands on his hips. 

“Derek, tell me if this is ok or not,” Stiles said.

Derek turned his head to the side, caught Stiles’ eye. Stiles knew that this shouldn’t hurt Derek, the suspension; it wouldn’t be like if had hung him with ropes or something, where his body weight would have been straining on him. The biotic lift power should be holding Derek completely, but Stiles was still nervous.

“I’m fine, Stiles,” Derek replied. “But I won’t be for much longer if you just stand there instead of fucking me.”

Stiles laughed under his breath. “Testy, sheesh.” He walked over to the bedside table and grabbed the lube and condoms from the drawer. 

“No condom,” Derek grunted out.

“What?” Stiles said, confused. “Why not?”

Derek shrugged, the movement stunted due to his bound wrists. “I want to feel you.”

Oh.

But.

“Shouldn’t we though, it’s safer,” Stiles mumbled, staring at the foil package.

“Do you have something?” Derek asked.

“No. Do you?”

“Do you honestly think I’d ask to do this if I did? Fuck, Stiles.” Derek sighed. “Just, nevermind. If you don’t want to, I’m not going to pressure you.”

“I want to.”

“Then get back over here, slick up your cock, and fuck me until I pass out.” Stiles didn’t think it was possible for someone bound and suspended 3 feet above the ground to be so scary. Luckily, Stiles had a strange fetish for scary stuff. Or maybe just grumpy, broody commanders with fantastic eyebrows.

“Yes, sir,” Stiles responded with a smirk.

He squeezed out the lube into his palm and slid his wet fingers over his cock. Stiles wiped his hand on his t-shirt lying on the floor and walked back over to Derek. Standing between Derek’s legs, Stiles lined himself up. He pushed into him, groaned when the head of his cock slid past the tight ring of muscle. Derek twisted his fingers together and moaned. When Stiles bottomed out, he moved one hand from Derek’s hips to his wrists, and grabbed ahold of him. 

“Fuck, please, Stiles,” Derek gasped. He rolled his hips back, tried to fuck himself on Stiles' dick, but the restraints didn’t allow him much room to move. Stiles pulled out and thrust back in. He set up a slow pace, making sure Derek was still comfortable in this position.

“Please,” Derek said.

“What?” Stiles smiled. He loved teasing Derek, loved to watch him get so frustrated. Admittedly, he also got very turned on by Derek begging.

“Harder. Please.”

Stiles pulled out and fucked back into him hard. Derek grunted.

“Like that?”

Derek keened. Stiles took it as a yes.

He snapped his hips forward, and started fucking Derek as hard as he could. With every thrust, Derek made a soft whining noise. Stiles groaned as he felt heat gather in his stomach, at the base of his spine. He moved faster now, rhythm getting sloppy as he started to get close. He took his other hand off Derek’s hip, and reached underneath him to pull on Derek’s cock. Derek grunted and cursed, Stiles felt him throb in his hand, and soon after, Derek came with a shout, spilling on the floor. His ass tightened around Stiles’ cock, and Stiles followed soon after, emptying himself inside of Derek. 

Stiles’ legs shook, and his knees threatened to give out on him. He collapsed over Derek’s back, and felt his control over his biotic powers falter. He pulled out of Derek, wincing as Derek made a small noise of discomfort. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's middle, and slowly let go of his powers, guiding Derek to fall back against him. He lowered them to the floor. Stiles smoothed Derek’s hair back from his forehead, damp from sweat. 

“How was that, big guy?” Stiles asked, placing a kiss on Derek's cheek. 

“Perfect,” Derek replied. He turned around to face Stiles. “I love you, Stiles.”

Stiles felt like his heart was swelling in his chest. “I know,” Stiles said, cupping Derek's face in his hands. “I love you, too.”

Derek kissed him and they sat there on the floor, minutes ticking by as they held each other, silent. 

“So,” Stiles said, and cleared his throat. “Would now be a good time to mention that my dad and Melissa told me they expect grandkids soon?”

Derek sighed, but he had a big grin on his face. “We'll discuss that in a little while. But, first let's go take a shower.”

So they showered, and ended up rutting against each other until the water turned cold, gasping into each other's mouths as they came. 

As they were drying each other off, Derek scrubbing the towel through Stiles' hair, Stiles said, “So, what do you think about adopting a salarian baby?”

“Stiles...” Derek laughed.

“What?” Stiles asked. “Think how cute they'd be! At least give it some thought.”

“I will, Stiles,” Derek responded. 

Stiles smiled at the image of Derek cuddling a tiny little salarian baby. He was so going to mention this to his dad.

END

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on my [tumblr](http://aeneapsych.tumblr.com) :D


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